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N.  1 


ANNA  KARENINA 


CHILDHOOD, 


)D,  Y( 


32U^H  TH0;3;^i    3HT    Hi    ri-i-rjc 


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VOLUME  V. 


ANNA  KARENINA 

VOL.   III. 

CHILDHOOD,  BOYHOOD,  YOUTH 


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ANNA    KARENINA 

VOL.    Ill 


Odpyright,  1899, 
By  THOMAS  Y.   CROWELL   &  CO. 


ANNA   KARENINA 


PART    FIFTH  —  Continued 


CHAPTER   XXI 

AS  soon  as  AlekseY  Aleksandrovitch  had  learned 
from  Betsy  and  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  that  all  that 
was  expected  of  him  was  that  he  should  leave  his  wife  in 
peace  and  not  trouble  her  with  his  presence,  and  that  his 
wife  herself  wished  this,  he  had  felt  himself  in  too  great 
perplexity  to  be  able  to  decide  anything  for  himself,  and 
he  did  not  know  what  he  wanted ;  but,  having  placed 
his  fate  in  the  hands  of  others,  who  were  willing  enough 
to  occupy  themselves  with  his  affairs,  he  was  ready  to 
accept  whatever  might  be  proposed  to  him. 

Only  when  Anna  had  taken  her  departure  and  when 
the  English  governess  sent  to  inquire  if  she  should  dine 
with  him  or  by  herself,  did  he  for  the  first  time  clearly 
realize  his  position  and  its  full  horror. 

The  hardest  element  in  this  state  of  affairs  was  that 
he  could  not  coordinate  and  reconcile  his  past  with  the 
present.  Nor  was  it  the  past  when  he  lived  happily 
with  his  wife  that  disturbed  him.  The  transition  from 
that  past  to  the  knowledge  of  his  wife's  infidelity  he  had 
borne  like  a  martyr ;  that  state  of  things  was  trying,  but 
it  was  comprehensible  to  him.  If  at  the  time  when  his 
wife  had  confessed  her  wrong  to  him  she  had  left  him, 
he  would  have  been  mortified  and  unhappy ;  but  he 
would  not  have  been  in  that  inextricable,  incomprehen- 
sible position  in  which  he  now  felt  that  he  was.  He 
could  never  now  reconcile  his  recent  position,  his  recon- 
ciliation, his  love  for  his  sick  wife  and  the  alien  child, 
VOL.  in. —  I  I 


a  ANNA   KARENINA 

with  the  present  state  of  things ;  in  other  words,  with 
the  fact  that  as  a  reward  for  all  his  sacrifices  he  was  now 
deserted,  disgraced,  useful  to  no  one,  and  a  ridiculous 
laughing-stock  to  all. 

The  first  two  days  after  his  wife's  departure  Aleksef 
Aleksandrovitch  received  petitioners  and  his  chief  sec- 
retary, attended  committee-meetings,  and  ate  his  meals 
in  the  dining-room  as  usual.  Without  trying  to  explain 
to  himself  why  he  did  this,  he  directed  all  the  powers  of 
his  mind  to  one  single  aim  —  to  seem  calm  and  indif- 
ferent. As  he  answered  the  questions  of  the  servants 
in  regard  to  what  should  be  done  about  Anna's  rooms 
and  her  things,  he  made  superhuman  efforts  to  assume 
the  manner  of  a  man  for  whom  the  event  that  had 
occurred  was  not  unexpected,  and  had  nothing  in  it 
outside  the  range  of  ordinary,  every-day  events,  and  he 
accomplished  his  purpose ;  no  one  would  have  detected 
in  him  any  signs  of  despair.  But  on  the  second  day 
after  her  departure  Kornei  handed  him  a  milliner's  bill 
which  Anna  had  neglected  to  pay,  and  told  him  that  the 
manager  of  the  business  himself  was  waiting.  Aleksef 
Aleksandrovitch  had  the  man  shown  in. 

"Excuse  me,  your  excellency,"  said  the  manager, 
"for  venturing  to  disturb  you,  but  if  you  order  us  to 
apply  to  her  ladyship  personally,  will  you  kindly  give 
us  her  address  .-'  " 

Aleksei"  Aleksandrovitch  seemed  to  the  manager  to  be 
cogitating  ;  then  suddenly  turning  round,  he  sat  down  at 
the  table.  Dropping  his  head  into  his  hands,  he  sat 
there  a  long  time  in  that  position  ;  he  tried  several  times 
to  speak,  but  still  hesitated.  Kornei,  understanding  his 
barin's  feelings,  asked  the  manager  to  come  another 
time. 

When  he  was  left  alone  again,  Aleksei"  Aleksandro- 
vitch realized  that  he  no  longer  had  the  power  to  keep 
up  the  role  of  firmness  and  serenity.  He  gave  orders 
to  send  away  the  carriage  which  was  waiting  for  him, 
and  he  declined  to  see  callers  and  would  accept  no  in- 
vitations out  to  dine.  He  felt  that  he  could  not  endure 
the  disdain  and  derision  which  he  clearly  read  on  the 


ANNA    KARENINA  3 

face  of  this  manager  and  of  Kornei,  and  of  all  without 
exception  whom  he  had  met  during  those  two  days.  He 
felt  that  he  could  not  defend  himself  from  the  detesta- 
tion of  people,  because  this  detestation  did  not  arise 
from  the  fact  that  he  had  himself  committed  any  wrong 
action,  for  in  that  case  he  might  have  hoped  to  regain 
the  esteem  of  the  world  by  improvement  in  conduct,  but 
from  the  fact  that  he  was  unhappy,  and  with  an  unhap- 
piness  that  was  odious  and  shameful.  He  knew  that  it 
was  precisely  for  the  reason  that  his  heart  was  torn  that 
they  would  be  pitiless  to  him.  It  seemed  to  him  that  his 
fellow-men  persecuted  him  as  dogs  torture  to  death  some 
poor  cur  maimed  and  howling  with  pain.  He  knew  that' 
the  only  safety  from  men  was  to  conceal  his  wounds  from 
them,  and  he  had  instinctively  tried  for  two  days  to  do 
so ;  but  now  he  felt  that  he  had  no  longer  the  strength 
to  continue  the  unequal  struggle. 

His  despair  was  made  deeper  by  the  knowledge  that 
he  was  absolutely  alone  with  his  suffering.  In  all 
Petersburg  there  was  not  a  man  to  whom  he  could 
confide  all  his  wretchedness,  not  one  who  would  have 
any  pity  for  him  now,  not  as  a  lofty  functionary,  or 
even  as  a  member  of  society,  but  simply  as  a  human 
being  in  despair :  he  had  no  such  friend. 

AlekseY  Aleksandrovitch  had  lost  his  mother  when  he 
was  ten  years  old  ;  he  had  no  remembrance  of  his 
father ;  he  and  his  one  brother  were  left  orphans  with 
a  very  small  inheritance  ;  their  uncle  Karenin,  a  man 
of  influence,  held  in  high  esteem  by  the  late  emperor, 
took  charge  of  their  bringing  up. 

After  a  successful  course  at  the  gymnasium  and  the 
university,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  through  his  uncle's 
aid,  made  a  brilliant  start  in  ofhcial  life,  and,  full  of 
ambition,  devoted  himself  exclusively  to  his  career.  He 
formed  no  ties  of  intimacy  either  in  the  gymnasium  or  in 
the  university,  or  afterward  in  society;  his  brother  alone 
was  dear  to  him,  but  he  entered  the  department  of  foreign 
affairs,  went  abroad  to  live,  and  died  soon  after  Aleksei' 
Aleksandrovitch's  marriage. 

While  Karenin  was  governor  of  one  of  the  provinces, 


4  ANNA   KARENINA 

Anna's  aunt,  a  wealthy  lady  of  the  governmental  capi 
tal,  introduced  her  niece  to  this  governor,  who  was 
young  for  such  a  position,  if  not  in  years,  and  she 
forced  him  to  the  alternative  of  proposing  marriage  or 
leaving  the  city.  Alekseif  Aleksandrovitch  long  hesi- 
tated. There  seemed  as  many  reasons  in  favor  of  this 
step  as  there  were  opposed  to  it ;  there  was  no  definite 
reason  which  should  impel  him  to  break  his  rule,  "When 
in  doubt,  doutT'  but  Anna's  aunt  sent  word  to  him 
through  a  friend  that  he  had  compromised  the  young 
lady,  and  that  as  a  man  of  honor  he  must  offer  her  his 
hand.  He  offered  himself,  and  gave  her,  first  as  his 
betrothed  and  afterward  as  his  wife,  all  the  affection 
which  it  was  in  his  power  to  show. 

This  attachment  prevented  him  from  feeling  the  need 
of  any  other  intimacy.  And  now  out  of  all  the  number 
of  his  acquaintances  he  had  not  one  confidential  friend. 
He  had  many  so-called  "  friends,"  but  no  intimates. 
There  were  many  persons  whom  Aleksei'  Aleksandro- 
vitch could  invite  to  dinner,  or  ask  favors  of,  in  the 
interests  of  his  public  capacity  or  protection  for  some 
petitioner  ;  with  whom  he  could  freely  criticize  the  actions 
of  other  people  and  of  the  highest  officers  of  govern- 
ment. But  his  relations  to  these  people  were  exclu- 
sively confined  to  this  official  domain,  from  which  it 
was  impossible  to  escape.  There  was  one  university 
comrade  with  whom  he  had  kept  up  an  intimacy  in  after 
years,  and  to  whom  he  would  have  confided  his  private 
sorrows,  but  this  friend  was  a  trustee  ^  of  the  classical 
educational  institutes  in  a  distant  province.  Of  all  the 
people  in  Petersburg,  the  nearest  and  most  practicable 
acquaintances  were  his  Director  of  the  Chancelry  and 
his  doctor. 

Mikhail  Vasilyevitch  Sliudin,  "manager  of  affairs," 
was  a  simple,  good,  intelligent,  and  well-bred  man,  and 
he  seemed  full  of  sympathy  for  Karenin  ;  but  five  years' 
association  in  official  service  put  a  barrier  between  them 
which  silenced  confidences. 

^  PopechiteV  uchebnava  okruga  ;  an  office  attached  to  the  department  of 
Public  Instruction.  —  Ed. 


ANNA   KARENINA  5 

AlekseT  Aleksandrovitch,  having  signed  the  papers 
which  he  brought,  sat  in  silence  for  some  time  looking 
at  Sliudin,  and  kept  trying,  but  found  it  impossible,  to 
open  his  heart  to  him.  The  question,  "  Have  you  heard 
of  my  misfortune  ?  "  was  on  his  lips  ;  but  it  ended  in  his 
saying  as  usual,  when  he  dismissed  him  :  — 

"  You  will  have  the  goodness  to  prepare  me  this 
work." 

The  doctor  was  another  man  who  was  well  disposed 
to  him,  but  between  them  there  had  long  been  a  tacit 
understanding  that  they  were  both  full  of  business  and 
in  a  hurry. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  did  not  think  at  all  about 
his  women  friends,  or  even  of  the  chiefest  among  them, 
the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna.  Women  simply  as  women 
were  strange  and  repulsive  to  him. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

ALEKSEif  Aleksandrovitch  forgot  the  Countess 
Lidia  Ivanovna,  but  she  did  not  forget  him.  She 
reached  his  house  at  his  darkest  moment  of  solitary 
despair,  and  made  her  way  to  his  library  without  wait- 
ing to  be  announced.  She  found  him  still  sitting  in  the 
same  position  with  his  head  between  his  hands. 

"J'ai  force  la  consignej"  she  said,  as  she  came  in 
with  rapid  steps,  breathless  with  emotion  and  agitation. 
"  I  know  all,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  my  friend  ! " 
and  she  pressed  his  hand  between  both  of  hers  and 
looked  at  him  with  her  beautiful  melancholy  eyes. 

Aleksei'  Aleksandrovitch,  with  a  frown,  arose,  and, 
having  withdrawn  his  hand,  offered  her  a  chair. 

"  I  beg  you  to  sit  down.  I  am  not  receiving  be- 
cause I  am  suffering,  countess,"  he  said,  and  his  lips 
quivered. 

"  My  friend  !  "  repeated  the  countess,  without  taking 
her  eyes  from  him  ;  and  suddenly  she  lifted  her  eye- 
brows so  that  they  formed  a  triangle  on  her  forehead,  and 
this  grimace  made  her  ugly  yellow  face  still  uglier  than 


6  ANNA    KARENINA 

before.  Aleksef  Aleksandrovitch  felt  that  she  pitied 
him  and  was  on  the  point  of  crying.  A  wave  of  feel- 
ing overwhelmed  him.  He  seized  her  fat  hand  and 
kissed  it. 

"  My  friend,"  she  said  again,  in  a  voice  breaking 
with  emotion,  "you  must  not  give  yourself  up  to  grief. 
Your  grief  is  great,  but  you  must  find  consolation." 

"  I  am  wounded,  I  am  killed,  I  am  no  longer  a  man," 
said  Alekseif  Aleksandrovitch,  letting  go  the  countess's 
hand,  but  still  looking  into  her  eyes  swimming  with  tears. 
"  My  situation  is  all  the  more  unbearable  because  I  can 
find  neither  in  myself  nor  outside  of  myself  any  help 
toward  endurance  of  it." 

"  You  will  find  this  help,  not  in  me,  though  I  beg  you 
to  believe  in  my  friendship,"  said  she,  with  a  sigh. 
"  Our  help  is  love,  the  love  which  He  has  given  for  an 
inheritance.  His  yoke  is  easy,"  she  continued,  with  the 
exalted  look  that  Aleksei"  Aleksandrovitch  knew  so  well. 
"  He  will  sustain  you  and  will  aid  you." 

Although  these  words  were  the  expression  of  an 
emotion  aroused  by  their  lofty  feelings,  as  well  as  the 
symbolical  language  characteristic  of  a  new  mystical 
exaltation  just  introduced  into  Petersburg,  and  which 
seemed  extravagant  to  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  never- 
theless he  found  it  pleasant  at  the  present  time  to  hear 
them. 

"  I  am  weak,  I  am  humiliated.  I  foresaw  nothing  of 
thi.s,  and  now  I  cannot  understand  it." 

"  My  friend  !  "  repeated  Lidia  Ivanovna. 

"  I  do  not  mourn  so  much  my  loss,"  said  Alekseif 
Aleksandrovitch  ;  "  but  I  cannot  help  a  feeling  of  shame 
for  the  situation  in  which  I  am  placed  before  the  world. 
It  is  bad,  and  I  cannot,  I  cannot  bear  it." 

"  It  is  not  you  who  have  performed  this  noble  act  of 
forgiveness  which  has  filled  me  —  and  all  —  with  admira- 
tion. It  is  He  dwelling  in  your  heart.  So,  too,  you 
have  no  cause  for  shame,"  said  the  countess,  ecstati- 
cally raising  her  eyes. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  frowned,  and,  pressing  his 
hands  together,  he  began  to  make  his  knuckles  crack. 


ANNA    KARENINA  7 

"You  must  know  all  the  details,"  he  said,  in  his  shrill 
voice.  "  Man's  powers  are  limited,  countess  ;  and  I  have 
reached  the  limit  of  mine.  All  this  day  I  have  wasted 
in  details,  domestic  details,  arising  [he  accented  the 
word]  from  my  new,  lonely  situation.  The  servants,  the 
governess,  the  accounts,  ....  this  is  a  slow  fire  devouring 
me,  and  I  have  not  strength  to  endure  it.  Yesterday 
I  scarcely  was  able  to  get  through  dinner ....  I  cannot  en- 
dure to  have  my  son  look  at  me....  he  did  not  ask  me 
any  questions,  but  I  know  he  wanted  to  ask  me,  and  I 
could  not  endure  his  look.  He  was  afraid  to  look  at 
me  ....but  that  is  a  mere  trifle  ...." 

Karenin  wanted  to  speak  of  the  bill  that  had  been  . 
brought  him,  but  his  voice  trembled,  and   he  stopped. 
This  bill  on  blue  paper,  for  a  hat  and  ribbons,  was  a 
recollection  that  made  him  pity  himself. 

"  I  understand,  my  friend,"  said  the  Countess  Lidia 
Ivanovna,  "  I  understand  it  all.  Aid  and  consolation 
you  will  not  find  in  me,  but  I  have  come  to  help  you  if 
I  can.  If  I  could  free  you  from  these  petty  annoying 
tasks  ....  I  think  that  a  woman's  word,  a  woman's  hand, 
are  needed  ;  will  you  let  me  help  you  .''  " 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  was  silent,  and  pressed  her 
hand  gratefully. 

"  We  will  look  after  Serozha  together.  I  am  not 
strong  in  practical  affairs,  but  I  can  get  used  to  them, 
and  I  will  be  your  ekonomka.  Do  not  thank  me ;  I  do 
not  do  it  of  myself."  .... 

"  I  cannot  help  being  grateful." 

"  But,   my  friend,   do  not  yield  to  the  sentiment  of 

which  you  spoke  a  moment  ago How  can   you  be 

ashamed  of  what  is  the  highest  degree  of  Christian  per- 
fection .-*  He  ivho  Jinmbles  Jiiinself  shall  be  exalted. 
And  you  cannot  thank  me.  Thank  Him,  pray  to  Him 
for  help.  In  Him  alone  we  can  find  peace,  consolation, 
salvation,  and  love." 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven,  and  began  to  pray,  as 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  could  see  by  her  silence. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  listened  to  her,  and  this 
phraseology,  which  before  seemed,  not  unpleasant  to  him, 


8  ANNA   KARENINA 

but  extravagant,  now  seemed  natural  and  soothing.  He 
did  not  approve  of  this  new  ecstatic  mysticism.  He  was 
a  sincere  believer,  and  religion  interested  him  principally 
in  its  relation  to  politics ;  and  the  new  doctrine  which 
arrogated  to  itself  certain  new  terms,-  for  the  very  rea- 
son that  it  opened  the  door  to  controversy  and  analysis, 
had  aroused  his  antipathy  from  principle.  Hitherto,  he 
had  taken  a  cold,  and  even  hostile,  attitude  to  this  new 
doctrine,  and  had  never  discussed  it  with  the  countess, 
who  was  carried  away  by  it,  but  had  resolutely  met  her 
challenge  with  silence.  But  now,  for  the  first  time,  he 
let  her  speak  without  hindrance,  and  even  found  a 
secret  pleasure  in  her  words. 

"  I  am  very,  very  grateful  to  you,  both  for  your  words 
and  for  your  sympathy,"  he  said,  when  she  had  ended 
her  prayer. 

Again  the  countess  pressed  her  friend's  hand  with 
both  of  hers. 

"Now  I  am  going  to  set  to  work,"  said  she,  with  a 
smile,  wiping  away  the  traces  of  tears  on  her  face.  "  I 
am  going  to  Serozha,  and  I  shall  not  trouble  you  except 
in  serious  difficulties."     And  she  got  up  and  went  out. 

The  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna  went  to  Serozha's  room, 
and,  while  she  bathed  the  scared  little  fellow's  cheeks 
with  her  tears,  she  told  him  that  his  father  was  a  saint 
and  his  mother  was  dead. 

The  countess  fulfilled  her  promise.  She  actually 
took  charge  of  the  details  of  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch's 
house,  but  she  exaggerated  in  no  respect  when  she  de- 
clared that  she  was  not  strong  in  practical  affairs.  It 
was  necessary  to  modify  all  of  her  arrangements,  since 
it  was  impossible  to  carry  them  out,  and  they  were  modi- 
fied by  Korne'i,  Aleksei'  Aleksandrovitch's  valet,  who, 
without  any  one  noticing  it,  gradually  took  it  on  him- 
self to  manage  the  whole  establishment,  and  calmly  and 
discreetly  reported  to  his  barin  (while  the  latter  was 
dressing)  such  things  as  seemed  best. 

But,  nevertheless,  the  countess's  help  was  to  the 
highest  degree  useful  to  him.  Her  affection  and  es- 
teem were  a  moral  support  to  him,  and,  as  it  gave  her 


ANNA    KARENINA  9 

great  .::onsolation  to  think,  she  almost  succeeded  in 
converting  him  to  "  Christianity  " ;  in  other  words,  she 
changed  him  from  an  indifferent  and  lukewarm  be- 
liever into  a  fervent  and  genuine  partizan  of  that 
new  method  of  explaining  the  Christian  doctrine  which 
shortly  after  came  into  vogue  in  Petersburg.  It  was 
easy  for  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  to  put  his  faith  in 
this  exegesis.  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  as  well  as  the 
countess  and  all  those  who  shared  their  views,  was  not 
gifted  with  great  imagination,  or  at  least  that  faculty 
of  the  mind  by  which  the  illusions  of  the  imagination 
have  sufficient  conformity  with  reality  to  cause  their 
acceptation.  Thus  he  saw  no  impossibility  or  unlike- 
lihood in  death  existing  for  unbelievers  and  not  for  him, 
that  because  he  held  a  complete  and  unquestioning  faith, 
judged  in  his  own  way,  his  soul  was  already  free  from 
sin,  and  that  even  in  this  world  he  might  look  upon  his 
safety  as  assured. 

It  is  true,  Aleksef  Aleksandrovitch  dimly  felt  the 
frivolity,  the  fallacy,  of  this  presentation  of  his  faith. 
He  knew  that  when,  without  a  thought  that  his  forgive- 
ness of  his  wife  was  the  act  of  a  higher  power,  he  gave 
himself  up  to  this  immediate  feeling,  he  experienced  a 
greater  happiness  than  when,  as  now,  he  constantly 
thought  that  Christ  dwelt  in  his  soul,  and  that  by  sign- 
ing certain  papers  he  was  following  His  will.  But  it 
was  indispensaljle  for  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  to  think 
so  ;  it  was  so  indispensable  to  have,  in  his  present  hu- 
miliation, this  elevation,  imaginary  though  it  was,  from 
which  he,  whom  every  one  despised,  could  look  down 
on  others,  that  he  clung  to  it  as  if  his  salvation  de- 
pended on  it. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

The  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna  had  been  married  when 
she  was  a  very  young  and  enthusiastic  girl  to  a  very 
wealthy,  aristocratic,  good-natured,  and  dissolute  young 
fellow.     Two  months  after  the  wedding   her   husband 


lo  ANNA    KARENINA 

deserted  her.  He  had  replied  to  her  effusive  expres- 
sions of  love  with  scorn  and  even  hatred,  which  no 
one  who  knew  the  count's  kindliness,  and  were  not 
acquainted  with  the  faults  of  Lidia's  romantic  nature, 
could  comprehend.  Since  then,  without  any  formal 
divorce,  they  had  lived  apart ;  and  when  the  husband 
met  his  wife,  he  always  treated  her  with  a  venomous 
scorn,  the  reason  for  which  it  puzzled  people  to  under- 
stand. 

The  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna  long  ago  ceased  to 
worship  her  husband,  but  at  no  time  had  she  ceased 
to  be  in  love  with  some  one.  Not  seldom  she  was  in 
love  with  several  at  once  —  men  and  women  indiscrimi- 
nately. She  had  been  in  love  with  almost  every  one 
of  any  prominence.  Thus  she  had  lost  her  heart  to 
each  of  the  new  princes  and  princesses  who  married 
into  the  imperial  family.  Then  she  had  been  in  love 
with  a  metropolitan,  a  vicar,  and  a  priest.  Then  she 
had  been  in  love  with  a  journalist,  three  Slavophiles, 
and  Komisarof ;  then  with  a  foreign  minister,  a  doc- 
tor, an  English  missionary,  and  finally  Karenin.  These 
multifarious  love-affairs  and  their  different  phases  of 
warmth  or  coldness  in  no  wise  hindered  her  from  keep- 
ing up  the  most  compUcated  relations  both  with  the 
court  and  society. 

But  from  the  day  when  Karenin  was  touched  by 
misfortune  and  she  took  him  under  her  special  pro- 
tection, from  the  time  when  she  began  to  busy  herself 
with  his  domestic  affairs  and  work  for  his  well-being, 
she  felt  that  all  her  former  passions  were  of  no  account, 
but  that  she  now  loved  Karenin  alone  with  perfect  sin- 
cerity. The  feeling  which  she  now  cherished  toward 
him  seemed  to  her  stronger  than  all  the  previous  feel- 
ings. As  she  analyzed  her  sentiment  and  compared 
it  with  the  former  ones,  she  clearly  saw  that  she  would 
never  have  been  in  love  with  Komisarof  if  he  had  not 
saved  the  emperor's  life,  or  with  Ristitch-Kudzhitsky 
had  there  been  no  Slav  question.  But  Karenin  she 
loved  for  himself,  for  his  great,  unappreciated  spirit, 
for  his  character,  for  the  delightful  sound  of  his  voice, 


ANNA    KARENINA  n 

his  deliberate  intonations,  his  weary  eyes,  and  his  soft 
white  hands  with  their  swollen  veins.  Not  only  did  the 
thought  of  seeing  him  fill  her  with  joy,  but  it  seemed 
to  her  that  she  saw  on  her  friend's  face  the  signs  of 
the  impression  which  she  made  on  him.  She  did  her 
best  to  please  him,  no  less  by  her  person  than  by  her 
conversation.  Never  before  had  she  spent  so  much 
time  and  attention  on  her  toilet.  More  than  once  she 
found  herself  wondering*  what  would  happen  if  she 
were  not  married  and  he  were  only  free !  When  he 
came  into  the  room,  she  colored  with  emotion,  and 
she  could  not  restrain  a  smile  of  ecstasy  if  he  said 
something  pleasant  to  her. 

For  several  days  the  countess  had  been  in  a  state  of 
great  excitement.  She  knew  that  Anna  and  Vronsky 
were  back  in  Petersburg.  It  was  necessary  to  save 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  from  seeing  her ;  it  was  neces- 
sary to  save  him  even  from  the  tormenting  knowledge 
that  this  wretched  woman  was  living  in  the  same  town 
with  him  and  he  might  meet  her  at  any  instant. 

Lidia  Ivanovna  made  inquiries  through  acquaintances 
so  as  to  discover  the  plans  of  these  repulsive  people,  as 
she  called  Anna  and  Vronsky ;  and  she  tried  to  direct 
all  of  Karenin's  movements  so  that  he  might  not  meet 
them.  The  young  aide  to  the  emperor,  a  friend  of 
Vronsky's,  from  whom  she  learned  about  them,  and 
who  was  hoping  through  the  Countess  Lidia  Iva- 
novna's  influence  to  get  a  concession,  told  her  that 
they  were  completing  their  arrangements  and  expected 
to  depart  on  the  following  day. 

Lidia  Ivanovna  was  beginning  to  breathe  freely  once 
more,  when  on  the  next  morning  she  received  a  note, 
the  handwriting  of  which  she  recognized  with  terror. 
It  was  Anna  Karenina's  handwriting.  The  envelop  was 
of  paper  thick  as  bark  ;  the  oblong  sheet  of  yellow  paper 
was  adorned  with  an  immense  monogram.  The  note 
exhaled  a  delicious  perfume. 

"  Who  brought  it  t  " 

"A  messenger  from  the  hotel." 

The  countess  waited  long  before  she  had  the  cour- 


II  ANNA    KARENINA 

age  to  sif  down  and  read  it.  Her  emotion  almost 
brought  on  an  attack  of  asthma,  to  which  she  was 
subject.  At  last,  when  she  felt  calmer,  she  opened 
the  following  note  written  in  French :  — 

Madame  la  Co7ntesse :  —  The  Christian  sentiments  filling 
your  heart  prompt  me,  with  unpardonable  boldness,  I  fear, 
to  address  you.  I  am  unhappy  at  being  separated  from  my 
son,  and  I  ask  you  to  do  me  the  favor  of  letting  me  see 
him  once  more  before  I  depart.  If  I  do  not  make  direct 
application  to  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  it  is  because  I  do  not 
wish  to  give  this  generous-hearted  man  the  pain  of  thinking  of 
me.  Knowing  your  friendship  for  him,  I  felt  that  you  would 
understand  me  ;  will  you  have  Serozha  sent  to  me  here  ?  or 
do  you  prefer  that  I  should  come  at  an  appointed  hour?  or 
would  you  let  me  know  how  and  at  what  place  I  could  see 
him  ?  You  cannot  imagine  my  desire  to  see  my  child  again, 
and  consequently  you  cannot  comprehend  the  extent  of  my 
gratefulness  for  the  assistance  that  you  can  render  me  in  these 
circumstances.  Anna. 

Everything  about  this  note  exasperated  the  Countess 
Lidia  Ivanovna,  its  tenor,  the  allusions  to  Karenin's 
magnanimity,  and  the  especially  free  and  easy  tone 
which  pervaded  it. 

"  Say  that  there  is  no  reply,"  said  the  Countess  Lidia 
Ivanovna,  and,  hurriedly  opening  her  buvard,  she  wrote 
to  Alekseif  Aleksandrovitch  that  she  hoped  to  meet  him 
about  one  o'clock  at  the  birthday  reception  at  the 
Palace. 

'•  I  must  consult  with  you  in  regard  to  a  sad  and 
serious  affair ;  we  will  decide  at  the  Palace  when  I  can 
'see  you.  The  best  plan  would  be  at  my  house,  where 
I  will  have  your  tea  ready.  It  is  absolutely  necessary. 
He  imposes  the  cross,  but  He  gives  also  the  strength," 
she  added,  that  she  might  somewhat  prepare  him. 

The  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna  wrote  Aleksei'  Aleksan- 
drovitch two  or  three  times  a  day ;  she  liked  this  way  of 
communication  with  him,  as  it  had  the  elegance  and 
mystery  which  were  lacking  in  ordinary  personal  inter- 
course. 


ANNA   KARENINA  13 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

The  congratulations  were  over.     As  the  visitors  who 
had  met  at  court  went  away,    they  talked  about  the 
latest  news  of  the  day,  the  rewards  that  had  been  be- 
•  stowed,  and  the  changed  positions  of  some  high  func- 
tionaries. 

"  What  should  you  say  if  the  Countess  Marya  Bori- 
sovna  was  made  minister  of  war,  and  the  Princess 
Vatkovskaya,  chief  of  staff.-"'  asked  a  little,  gray-haired 
old  man,  in  a  gold-embroidered  uniform,  who  was  talking 
with  a  tall,  handsome  maid  of  honor  about  the  recent 
changes. 

"  In  that  case,  I  should  be  made  one  of  the  emperor's 
aides,"  replied  the  freilina. 

"  Your  place  is  already  settled.  You  are  to  have 
charge  of  the  department  of  religions,  and  Karenin  is 
to  be  your  assistant." 

"  How  do  you  do,  prince .''  "  said  the  little  old  man, 
shaking  hands  with  some  one  who  came  along. 

"  Were  you  speaking  of  Karenin  ."* "  asked  the 
prince. 

"  Yes ;  he  and  Putyatof  have  been  decorated  with  the 
order  of  Alexander  Nevsky." 

"  I  thought  he  had  it  already." 

"  No ;  look  at  him,"  said  the  little  old  man,  pointing 
with  his  gold-laced  hat  toward  Karenin,  who  was  stand- 
ing in  the  doorway,  talking  with  one  of  the  influential 
members  of  the  Imperial  Council ;  he  wore  the  court 
uniform,  with  his  new  red  ribbon  across  his  shoulder. 
"  Happy  and  contented  as  a  copper  kopek !  "  he  added, 
pausing  to  press  the  hand  of  a  handsome,  athletic  cham- 
berlain passing  by. 

"  No  ;  he  has  grown  old,"  said  the  chamberlain. 

"With  cares.  He  spends  all  his  time  writing  proj- 
ects. He,  the  unfortunate  man,  will  not  let  go  until  he 
has  explained  everything  point  by  point." 

"What,  grown  old  .-'  II  fait des passions.  I  think  the 
Countess  Lidia  is  jealous  now  of  his  wife." 


14  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  There !  I  beg  of  you  not  to  speak  ill  of  the  Countess 
Lidia." 

"  Is  there  any  harm  in  her  being  in  love  with  Kare- 
nin  ?  " 

"  Is  it  true  that  Madame  Karenin  is  here  ?  " 

"  Not  here  at  the  Palace,  but  in  Petersburg.  I  met 
her  yesterday  with  Aleksei  Vronsky  bras  dessiis,  bras 
dessoics,  on  the  Morskaya." 

"  Cest  tin  homme  qui  11  a  pas,''  —  began  the  chamber- 
lain ;  but  he  broke  short  off  to  salute  and  make  way  for 
a  member  of  the  imperial  family  who  was  passing. 

Thus  they  were  talking  about  Aleksei  Aleksandro- 
vitch,  criticizing  and  ridiculing  him,  while  he  himself  was 
barring  the  way  of  the  imperial  counselor,  and,  without 
pausing  in  his  explanations  lest  he  should  lose  him,  was 
giving  a  detailed  exposition  of  a  iinancial  scheme. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  about  the  time  his  wife  left 
him,  had  reached  a  situation  painful  for  an  official,  — 
the  culmination  of  his  upward  career.  This  culmination 
had  been  reached,  and  all  clearly  saw  it,  but  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch  himself  was  not  yet  aware  that  his 
career  was  ended.  Either  his  collision  with  Stremof,  or 
his  trouble  with  his  wife,  or  the  simple  fact  that  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch  had  reached  the  limit  that  he  had  been 
destined  to  attain,  the  fact  remained  that  every  one  saw 
clearly  that  his  official  race  was  run.  He  still  held  an 
important  place ;  he  was  a  member  of  many  important 
committees  and  commissions :  but  he  was  one  of  those 
men  of  whom  nothing  more  is  expected  ;  his  day  was 
over.  Whatever  he  said,  whatever  he  proposed,  seemed 
antiquated  and  useless.  But  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch 
himself  did  not  realize  this ;  on  the  contrary,  now  that  he 
had  ceased  to  have  an  active  participation  in  the  busi- 
ness of  the  administration,  he  saw  more  clearly  than 
before  the  faults  and  mistakes  that  others  were  making, 
and  considered  it  his  duty  to  indicate  certain  reforms 
which  should  be  introduced. 

Shortly  after  his  separation  from  his  wife,  he  began 
to  write  his  first  pamphlet  about  the  new  tribunals,  and 
proposed  to  follow  it  up  with  an  endless  series  of  similar 


ANNA    KARENINA  15 

pamphlets,  of  no  earthly  use,  on  all  the  different  branches 
of  the  administration. 

He  not  only  did  not  realize  his  hopeless  situation  in 
the  official  world,  and  therefore  did  not  lose  heart,  but 
more  than  ever  he  took  dehght  in  his  activity. 

"  He  that  is  unmarried  is  careful  for  the  things  of  the 
Lord,  how  he  may  please  the  Lord ;  but  he  that  is  married 
is  careful  for  the  things  of  the  world,  how  he  may  please 
his  wife,"  said  the  Apostle  Paul.  And  Aleksei  Aleksan- 
drovitch,  who  now  directed  his  life  in  all  respects 
according  to  the  Epistle,  often  quoted  this  text.  It 
seemed  to  him  that,  since  he  had  been  deprived  of  his 
wife,  he  served  the  Lord  more  faithfully  than  ever  by 
devotion  to  these  projects. 

The  imperial  counselor's  very  manifest  impatience 
and  desire  to  get  away  from  him  in  no  way  abashed 
Karenin,  but  he  stopped  a  moment  as  a  prince  of  the 
imperial  family  was  passing",  and  his  victim  seized  his 
opportunity  to  escape. 

Left  to  himself,  Aleksei"  Aleksandrovitch  bowed  his 
head,  tried  to  collect  his  thoughts,  and,  with  an  absent- 
minded  glance  about  him,  stepped  toward  the  door, 
hoping  to  meet  the  countess  there. 

"  How  strong  and  healthy  they  look  physically  !  "  he 
said  to  himself,  as  he  looked  at  the  vigorous  neck  of  the 
prince,  who  wore  a  close-fitting  uniform,  and  the  hand- 
some chamberlain  with  his  well-combed  and  perfumed 
side-whiskers.  "  It  is  only  too  true  that  all  is  evil  in 
this  world,"  he  thought,  as  he  looked  at  the  chamber- 
lain's sturdy  legs.  Moving  slowly  along,  Aleksei  Alek- 
sandrovitch, with  his  customary  appearance  of  weariness 
and  dignity,  came  up  to  the  gentlemen  who  had  been 
talking  about  him,  and,  glancing  through  the  door,  he 
looked  for  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna. 

"  Ah  !  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  !  "  cried  the  little  old 
man,  with  a  wicked  light  glowing  in  his  eyes,  as  Karenin 
passed  him  with  a  cold  bow.  "  I  have  not  yet  con- 
gratulated you,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  newly  received 
ribbon. 

"  I  thank  you.     This  is  2l  fi^ie  day  !  "  rephed  Alekseif 


i6  ANNA   KARENINA 

Aleksandrovitch,  accentuating  the  adjective  prekrasny^ 
as  was  his  habit. 

He  knew  that  these  gentlemen  were  making  sport  of 
him  ;  but  he  expected  nothing  but  hostile  feelings,  and 
he  was  accustomed  to  it. 

Catching  sight  of  the  countess's  yellow  shoulders  ris- 
ing from  her  corsage,  as  she  appeared  at  the  door,  and 
her  beautiful  pensive  eyes,  inviting  him  to  join  her, 
Aleksei'  Aleksandrovitch,  with  a  smile  which  showed 
his  even  white  teeth,  went  to  her. 

Lidia  Ivanovna's  toilet  had  cost  her  much  labor,  like 
all  her  recent  efforts  in  this  direction ;  for  the  object  of 
her  toilet  was  now  entirely  the  reverse  of  that  which  she 
had  followed  thirty  years  before.  Formerly  she  had 
thought  only  of  adorning  herself,  and  the  more  the 
better ;  now,  on  the  contrary,  she  had  to  be  adorned  so 
unsuitably  for  her  figure  and  her  years  that  she  simply 
endeavored  to  render  the  contrast  between  her  person 
and  her  toilet  not  too  frightful,  and  in  Aleksei  Alek- 
sandrovitch's  eyes  she  succeeded ;  he  thought  her  fas- 
cinating. For  him  she,  with  her  friendliness  and  even 
love  for  him,  was  the  only  island  amid  the  sea  of  ani- 
mosity and  ridicule  that  surrounded  him.  As  he  was  the 
gantlet  of  scornful  glances,  he  was  naturally  drawn  to 
her  loving  eyes  like  a  plant  toward  the  light. 

"  I  congratulate  you,"  she  said,  looking  at  his  decora- 
tion. 

Repressing  a  smile  of  satisfaction,  Karenin  shrugged 
his  shoulders  and  half  closed  his  eyes,  as  if  to  say  that 
this  was  nothing  to  him. 

The  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna  knew  well  that  these 
distinctions,  even  though  he  would  not  confess  it,  caused 
him  the  keenest  pleasure. 

"  How  is  our  angel  .-*  "  she  asked,  referring  to  Serozha. 

"  I  cannot  say  that  I  very  am  well  satisfied  with  him," 
replied  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  Hfting  his  eyebrows 
and  opening  his  eyes.  "  And  Sitnikof  "  (a  pedagogue 
who  had  been  intrusted  with  Serozha's  childish  educa- 
tion) "  does  not  please  him.  As  I  told  you,  I  find  in 
him  a  certain  apathy  toward  the  chief  questions  which 


ANNA    KARENINA  17 

ought  to  move  the  soul  of  every  man  and  of  every 
child." 

And  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  began  to  discourse  on  a 
subject  which,  next  to  the  questions  of  administration, 
gave  him  the  most  concern — his  son's  education. 

When  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  with  Lidia  Ivanovna's 
aid,  once  more  resumed  his  ordinary  life  and  activity 
again,  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  occupy  himself  with  the  edu- 
cation of  the  son  who  had  been  left  on  his  hands.  Hav- 
ing never  before  taken  any  practical  interest  in  the 
question  of  education,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  conse- 
crated some  time  to  the  practical  study  of  the  subject. 
After  having  read  various  works  on  anthropology,  peda- 
gogy, and  didactics,  he  conceived  a  plan  of  education 
which  the  best  tutor  in  Petersburg  was  then  intrusted 
to  put  into  practice.  And  this  work  constantly  occupied 
him. 

"  Yes  ;  but  his  heart  ?  I  find  in  this  child  his  father's 
heart,  and  with  such  a  heart  he  cannot  be  bad,"  said  the 
countess,  with  enthusiasm. 

"  Well,  that  may  be.  So  far  as  in  me  lies,  I  perform 
my  duty  ;  it  is  all  that  I  can  do." 

"  Will  you  come  to  my  house  ?  "  asked  the  Countess 
Lidia  Ivanovna,  after  a  moment's  silence.  "  I  have  a 
very  painful  matter  to  talk  with  you  about.  I  would 
have  given  the  world  to  spare  you  certain  memories ; 
others  do  not  think  the  same.  I  have  had  a  letter  from 
Aer.     She,  is  here  in  Petersburg." 

Alekse'f  Aleksandrovitch  quivered  at  the  recollection 
of  his  wife  ;  •  but  his  face  instantly  assumed  that  expres- 
sion of  corpselike  immobility  that  showed  how  absolutely 
unable  he  was  to  treat  of  such  a  subject. 

"  I  expected  it,"  he  said. 

The  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna  looked  at  him  with  ex- 
altation, and  in  the  presence  of  a  soul  so  great,  tears  of 
transport  sprang  to  her  eyes. 

VOL.  III.  —  2 


i8  ANNA   KARENINA 


CHAPTER   XXV 

When  Aleksei  entered  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna's 
cozy  little  boudoir,  decorated  with  portraits  and  old  por- 
celains, he  failed  to  find  his  friend. 

She  was  changing  her  gown. 

On  a  round  table  covered  with  a  cloth  stood  a  Chinese 
tea-service  and  a  silver  teapot  with  an  alcohol  lamp. 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  glanced  perfunctorily  at  the 
numberless  paintings  that  adorned  the  room  ;  then  he 
sat  down  near  a  table  and  took  up  a  copy  of  the  New 
Testament  which  lay  on  it.  The  rustling  of  the  coun- 
tess's silk  dress  put  his  thoughts  to  flight. 

"Well  now!  We  can  be  a  little  more  free  from  dis- 
turbance," said  the  countess,  with  a  smile,  gliding  between 
the  table  and  the  divan.  "  We  can  talk  while  drinking 
our  tea." 

After  several  words,  meant  to  prepare  his  mind,  she 
sighed  deeply,  and,  with  a  tinge  of  color  in  her  cheeks, 
she  put  Anna's  letter  into  his  hands. 

He  read  it,  and  sat  long  in  silence. 

"  I  do  not  feel  that  I  have  the  right  to  refuse  her,"  he 
said  timidly,  raising  his  eyes. 

"  My  friend,  you  never  can  see  evil  anywhere." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  see  everything  is  evil.  But  would 
it  be  fair  to  ...." 

His  face  expressed  indecision,  desire  for  advice,  for 
support,  for  guidance,  in  a  question  so  beyond  his  com- 
prehension. 

"  No,"  interrupted  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna, 
"  there  are  limits  to  all  things.  I  understand  immoral- 
ity," she  said,  not  with  absolute  sincerity,  since  she  did 
not  know  what  could  induce  women  to  be  immoral, 
"  but  what  I  do  not  understand  is  cruelty  toward  any  one  ! 
Toward  you !  How  can  she  remain  in  the  same  city 
with  you  ?  One  is  never  too  old  to  learn,  and  I  learn 
every  day  your  grandeur  and  her  baseness !  " 

"Who  shall  cast  the  first  stone  .-^ "  asked  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch,   evidently   satisfied  with  the  part  he 


ANNA    KARENINA  19 

was  playing.  "  I  have  forgiven  her  for  everything,  and 
therefore  I  cannot  deprive  her  of  what  is  a  need  of  her 
heart,  —  her  love  for  her  son."  .... 

"But  is  it  love  —  my  friend  .-*  Is  it  sincere.?  Let  us 
agree  that  you  have  forgiven  her,  and  that  you  still 
pardon  her.  But  have  we  the  right  to  vex  the  soul 
of  this  little  angel  ?     He  believes  that  she  is  dead ;   he 

prays  for  her  and  asks  God  to  pardon  her  sins It  is 

better  so.     What  would  he  think  now.'" 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  that,"  said  Alekse'i  Aleksan- 
drovitch,  perceiving  the  justice  of  her  words. 

The  countess  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and 
was  silent ;  she  was  praying. 

"If  you  ask  my  advice,"  she  replied,  after  she  had 
uttered  her  prayer  and  taken  her  hands  from  her  face, 
"  you  will  not  do  this.  Do  I  not  see  how  you  suffer, 
how  this  opens  all  your  wounds  .-^  But  let  us  admit  that 
you,  as  always,  forget  yourself,  but  where  will  it  lead 
you  .''  new  sufferings  for  yourself,  to  torture  for  the  child  ! 
If  she  were  still  capable  of  human  feelings,  she  herself 
could  not  desire  this.  No !  I  have  no  hesitation  about 
it,  I  advise  you  not  to,  and,  if  you  give  me  your  authority, 
I  will  reply  to  her." 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  consented,  and  the  countess 
wrote,  in  French,  this  letter:  — 

Chh'e  Madame :  —  Recalling  your  existence  to  your  son 
would  be  likely  to  raise  questions  which  it  would  be  impossi- 
ble to  answer  without  obliging  the  child  to  criticize  that  which 
should  remain  sacred  to  him,  and  therefore  I  beg  you  to  inter- 
pret your  husband's  refusal  in  the  spirit  of  Christian  charity. 
I  pray  the  Omnipotent  to  be  merciful  to  you. 

COMTESSE   LiDIA. 

This  letter  accomplished  the  secret  aim  which  the 
countess  would  not  confess  even  to  herself ;  it  wounded 
Anna  to  the  bottom,  of  her  soul. 

AlekseT  Aleksandrovitch,  on  returning  home  from 
Lidia  Ivanovna's,  found  himself  unable  to  take  up  his 
ordinary  occupations,  or  recover  the  spiritual  calm  of  a 
believer  who  feels  that  he  is  among  the  elect. 


20  ANNA    KARENINA 

The  thought  of  his  wife  who  had  been  so  guilty 
toward  him,  and  toward  whom  he  had  acted  so  like 
a  saint,  as  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna  had  so  well 
expressed  it,  ought  not  to  have  disturbed  him,  and  yet 
he  was  ill  at  ease.  He  could  not  understand  a  word  of 
the  book  he  was  reading,  he  could  not  drive  away  from 
his  mind  the  cruel  recollections  of  his  relations  to  her, 
of  the  mistakes  which,  as  it  now  seemed  to  him,  he 
himself  had  made  in  his  treatment  of  her.  He  remem- 
bered with  a  feeling  like  remorse  the  way  he  had 
received  Anna's  confession  that  day  as  they  were  re- 
turning from  the  races.  Why  had  he  demanded  merely 
an  outward  observance  of  the  proprieties .''  Why  had 
he  not  challenged  Vronsky  to  a  duel .'  He  was  likewise 
tormented  by  his  recollection  of  the  letter  which  he 
wrote  her  at  that  time  ;  especially  his  forgiveness  of  her, 
which  had  proved  useless  to  any  one,  and  the  pains 
which  he  had  wasted  on  the  baby  that  was  not  his,  all 
came  back  to  his  memory  and  seared  his  heart  with 
shame  and  regret.  And  exactly  the  same  feeling  of 
shame  and  regret  she  experienced  now  in  reviewing  all 
his  past  with  her,  and  remembering  the  awkward  way 
in  which,  after  long  vacillating,  he  had  offered  himself 
to  her. 

"But  how  am  I  at  fault.''"  he  asked  himself;  and 
this  question  immediately  gave  rise  to  another:  "Do 
other  men  feel  differently,  fall  in  love  differently, 
and  marry  differently, — these  Vronskys,  Oblonskys  .... 
these  chamberlains  with  their  handsome  calves  .-* " 

His  imagination  called  up  a  whole  line  of  these  vigor- 
ous men,  self-confident  and  strong,  who  had  always  and 
everywhere  attracted  his  curiosity  and  his  wonder. 

He  drove  away  these  thoughts;  he  strove  to  persuade 
himself  that  the  end  and  aim  of  his  life  was  not  this 
world,  but  eternity,  that  peace  and  charity  alone  ought 
to  dwell  in  his  soul.  But  the  fact  that  in  this  temporal, 
insignificant  life  he  had,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  made 
some  humiliating  blunders,  tortured  him  as  much  as  if 
that  eternal  salvation  in  which  he  put  his  trust  did  not 
exist. 


ANNA   KARENINA  21 

But  this  temptation  was  not  long,  and  soon  Aleksel 
Aleksandrovitch  regained  that  serenity  and  elevation  of 
mind  by  which  he  succeeded  in  putting  away  all  that 
he  wished  to  forget. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

"  Well,  Kapitjnuitch  ?  "  said  Serozha,  as  he  came 
in,  rosy  and  gay,  after  his  walk,  on  the  evening  before 
his  birthday,  while  the  old  Swiss,  smiling  down  from 
his  superior  height,  helped  the  young  man  off  with  his 
coat,  "  did  the  bandaged  chinovnik  come  to-day  ?  Did 
papa  see  him  ? " 

"  Yes ;  the  manager  had  only  just  got  here  when  I 
announced  him,"  replied  the  Swiss,  winking  one  eye 
gayly.     "  Permit  me,  I  will  take  it." 

"Serozha!  Serozha!"  called  the  Slavophile  tutor, 
who  was  standing  by  the  door  that  led  to  the  inner 
rooms,  "take  off  your  coat  yourself." 

But  Serozha,  though  he  heard  his  tutor's  weak  voice, 
paid  no  heed  to  him ;  standing  by  the  Swiss,  he  held 
him  by  the  belt,  and  looked  him  straight  in  the  face. 

"  And  did  papa  do  what  he  wanted  .''  " 

The  Swiss  nodded. 

This  chinovnik,  with  his  head  in  a  bandage,  who  had 
come  seven  times  to  ask  some  favor  of  Aleksei'  Aleksan- 
drovitch, interested  Serozha  and  the  Swiss.  Serozha 
had  met  him  one  day  in  the  vestibule,  and  overheard 
how  he  begged  the  Swiss  to  let  him  be  admitted,  saying 
that  nothing  was  left  for  him  and  his  children  but  to  die. 
Since  that  time  the  lad  had  felt  great  concern  for  the 
poor  man. 

"  Say,  did  he  seem  very  glad  .-'  "  asked  Serozha. 

"  Glad  as  he  could  be ;  he  went  off  almost  leap- 
ing." 

"  Has  anything  come  .-* "  asked  Serozha,  after  a  mo- 
ment's silence. 

"Well,  sir,"  whispered  the  Swiss,  shaking  his  head 
"there  is  something  from  the  countess." 


22  ANNA    KARENINA 

Serozha  instantly  understood  that  what  the  Swiss 
meant  was  a  birthday  present  from  the  Countess  Lidia 
Ivanovna. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?     Where  is  it  ? " 

"  Kornei  took  it  to  papa ;  it  must  be  some  beautiful 
toy ! " 

"  How  big  ?  as  big  as  this?  " 

"  Smaller,  but  beautiful." 

"  A  httle  book  ?  " 

"  No ;  a  toy.  Run  away,  run  away.  Vasili  Lukitch 
is  calling  you,"  said  the  Swiss,  hearing  the  tutor's  steps 
approach,  and  gently  removing  the  little  gloved  hand 
which  held  his  belt. 

"  In  a  little  bit  of  a  moment,  Vasili  Lukitch,"  said 
Serozha,  with  the  amiable  and  gracious  smile  to  whose 
influence  even  the  stern  tutor  submitted. 

Serozha  was  in  radiant  spirits,  and  wanted  to  tell  his 
friend,  the  Swiss,  about  a  piece  of  good  fortune  which 
the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna's  niece  had  told  him,  while 
they  were  walking  in  the  summer  garden,  had  befallen 
the  family.  His  happiness  seemed  greater  still  since  he 
heard  about  the  chinovnik's  success  and  his  present. 
It  seemed  to  Serozha  that  every  one  ought  to  be  happy 
this  beautiful  day. 

"  Do  you  know  papa  has  received  the  Alexander  Nev- 
sky  order .''" 

"  Why  should  n't  I  know .-'  He  has  been  receiving 
congratulations." 

"  Is  he  glad  .? " 

"  How  could  he  help  being  glad  of  the  Tsar's  favor  .■* 
Of  course  he  deserves  it !  "  said  the  old  Swiss,  gravely. 

Serozha  reflected  as  he  looked  into  the  Swiss's  face, 
which  he  knew  even  to  the  least  detail,  but  especially 
the  chin,  between  his  gray  side-whiskers.  No  one  had 
seen  his  chin  except  Serozha,  who  looked  up  at  it  from 
below. 

"  Well !  and  your  daughter  .'*  Is  n't  it  a  long  time  since 
she  has  been  to  see  us  .-' " 

The  Swiss's  daughter  was  a  ballet-dancer. 

"How  could  she  find  time  to  come  on  workdays?'' 


ANNA    KARENINA  23 

he  exclaimed.  "  They  have  their  lessons  as  well  as  you, 
and  you  had  better  be  off  to  yours,  sir." 

When  Serozha  reached  his  room,  instead  of  attending 
to  his  tasks,  he  poured  out  into  the  tutor's  ears  all  his 
surmises  about  the  present  which  had  been  brought  him. 
"  It  must  be  a  locomotive  engine ;  what  do  you  think 
about  it .''  "  he  asked  ;  but  Vasili  Lukitch  was  thinking  of 
nothing  except  the  grammar  lesson,  which  had  to  be 
ready  for  the  professor,  who  came  at  two  o'clock. 

"  No,  butyou  must  justtell  me  one  thing,  Vasili  Lukitch," 
asked  the  child,  who  was  now  sitting  at  his  desk,  with 
his  book  in  his  hands:  "what  is  there  higher  than  the 
Alexander  Nevsky  .'^  You  know  that  papa  has  just  re- 
ceived the  Alexander  Nevsky." 

Vasili  Lukitch  replied  that  the  order  of  Vladimir  was 
higher.  '< 

"  And  above  that  ?  " 

"  St.  Andrew  ^  above  them  all." 

*'  And  above  that .-'  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Why  don't  you  know  ? "  and  Serozha,  leaning  his 
head  on  his  hand,  began  to  think. 

The  child's  thoughts  were  very  varied  and  compli- 
cated ;  he  imagined  that  his  father  perhaps  was  going  to 
have  the  orders  of  Vladimir  and  St.  Andrew,  and  that 
therefore  he  would  be  more  indulgent  for  that  day's 
lessons;  and  that  he  himself,  when  he  grew  up,  would 
do  his  best  to  deserve  all  the  decorations,  even  those 
that  would  be  given  higher  than  that  of  St.  Andrew.  A 
new  order  would  scarcely  have  time  to  be  founded  before 
he  would  make  himself  worthy  of  it. 

These  thoughts  made  the  time  pass  so  quickly  that, 
when  the  professor  came,  his  lesson  about  the  circum- 
stances of  time,  and  place,  and  mode  of  action  was  not 
prepared  at  all ;  and  the  professor  seemed  not  only  dis- 
satisfied, but  distressed.  His  professor's  distress  touched 
Serozha.  He  felt  that  he  was  to  blame  for  not  having 
learned  his  lesson.  In  spite  of  all  his  efforts,  he  really 
had  been  unable  to  do  it.  When  the  professor  was 
1  Andrei  Pervozbanny,  Andrew  the  First-called  or  Frotokletos. 


24  ANNA    KARENINA 

talking  to  him,  he  imagined  that  he  understood ;  but 
when  he  was  alone,  he  really  could  not  remember  or 
comprehend  that  such  a  short  and  easy  word  as  vdrug, 
"suddenly,"  is  a  circumstance  of  the  mode  of  action  ;  but 
still  he  was  sorry  that  he  had  tried  his  teacher. 

He  seized  on  a  moment  when  his  teacher  was  silently 
looking  into  a  book,  to  ask  him  :  — 

"  Mikhail  Ivanovitch,  when  will  your  birthday  be  ? " 

"You  would  do  better  to  think  about  your  work  ;  birth- 
days have  no  importance  for  a  reasonable  being.  It  is 
only  a  day  just  like  any  other,  and  must  be  spent  in 
work." 

Serozha  looked  attentively  at  his  teacher,  studied  his 
sparse  beard,  his  eye-glasses  far  down  on  his  nose,  and 
got  into  such  a  deep  brown  study  that  he  heard  nothing 
of  what  the  teacher  was  explaining  to  him.  He  had  a 
dim  comprehension  that  his  teacher  did  not  believe  what 
he  said.  By  the  tone  in  which  he  said  it,  he  felt  that  it 
was  incredible. 

"But  why  do  they  all  try  to  say  to  me  the  most  tire- 
some things  and  the  most  useless  things,  and  all  in  the 
same  way  ?  Why  does  this  man  keep  me  from  him,  and 
not  love  me  ?  "  he  asked  himself  sadly,  and  he  could  not 
discover  any  answer. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

After  the  professor,  came  the  lesson  with  his  father. 
Serozha,  while  waiting  for  him,  sat  at  the  table,  playing 
with  his  pen-knife,  and  he  fell  into  new  thoughts. 

One  of  his  favorite  occupations  was  to  look  for  his 
mother  while  he  was  out  walking.  He  did  not  believe  in 
death  as  a  general  thing ;  and  especially  he  did  not  be- 
lieve that  his  mother  was  dead,  in  spite  of  what  the 
Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna  told  him,  and  though  his  father 
confirmed  it.  And  therefore,  after  they  told  him  that  she 
was  dead,  he  used  to  watch  for  her  while  he  was  out  for 
his  walk.  Every  tall,  graceful  woman  with  dark  hair  he 
imagined  to  be  his  mother ;  at  the  sight  of  such  a  woman, 


ANNA    KARENINA  25 

his  heart  would  swell  with  love,  the  tears  would  come 
into  his  eyes,  and  he  would  wait  until  the  lady  drew  near 
him,  and  raised  her  veil ;  then  he  would  see  her  face  ; 
she  would  kiss  him,  smile  upon  him ;  he  would  feel  the 
sweet  caress  of  her  hand,  smell  the  well-known  perfume, 
and  weep  with  joy,  as  he  did  one  evening  when  he  lay 
at  her  feet,  and  she  tickled  him,  and  he  laughed  so  heart- 
ily, and  gently  bit  her  white  hand,  covered  with  rings. 

Later,  when  he  learned  accidentally  from  the  old  nurse 
that  his  mother  was  alive,  and  that  his  father  and  the 
countess  had  told  him  that  she  was  dead  because  she 
was  a  wicked  woman,  this  seemed  still  more  impossible 
to  Serozha,  because  he  loved  her ;  and  he  looked  for 
her,  and  longed  for  her. 

That  very  day,  in  the  summer  garden,  there  had  been 
a  lady  in  a  lilac  veil,  and,  with  his  heart  beating  violently, 
expecting  that  it  was  she,  he  saw  her  take  the  same  foot- 
path where  he  was  walking  ;  but  this  lady  did  not  come 
up  where  he  was,  and  she  disappeared  from  sight. 
Serozha  felt  a  stronger  love  than  ever  for  his  mother  ; 
and  now,  while  waiting  for  his  father,  he  was  cutting 
his  desk  with  his  penknife ;  with  shining  eyes,  he  was 
looking  straight  ahead,  and  thinking  of  her. 

"  Here  comes  your  papa,"  said  Vasili  Lukitch. 

Serozha  jumped  up  from  the  chair,  ran  to  kiss  his 
father's  hand,  and  looked  for  some  sign  of  pleasure 
because  he  had  received  the  order  of  Alexander 
Nevsky. 

"  Did  you  have  a  good  walk  ? "  asked  Alekse'i  Alek- 
sandrovitch,  as  he  sat  down  in  an  armchair,  taking  up 
the  Old  Testament  and  opening  it. 

Though  he  had  often  told  Serozha  that  every  Chris- 
tian ought  to  know  the  sacred  history  by  heart,  he  had 
often  to  consult  the  Old  Testament  for  his  lessons ;  and 
Serozha  noticed  it. 

"Yes,  papa,  I  enjoyed  it  very  much,"  said  Serozha, 
sitting  across  his  chair,  and  tipping  it,  which  was  for- 
bidden. "  I  saw  Nadenka  "  (Nadenka  was  the  countess's 
niece,  whom  she  adopted)  "  and  she  told  me  that  they  've 
given  you  a  new  star.     Are  you  glad,  papa .''  " 


26  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  In  the  first  place,  please  don't  tip  your  chair  so," 
said  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  "and  in  the  second  place, 
know  that  what  ought  to  be  dear  to  us  is  work  for  itself 
and  not  the  reward.  I  want  you  to  understand  that.  If 
you  work  and  study  simply  for  the  sake  of  receiving  the 
recompense,  the  work  will  seem  painful ;  but  if  you  love 
work,  your  recompense  will  come  of  itself." 

And  Aleksef  Aleksandrovitch  remembered  that  on 
this  very  day  he  had  signed  one  hundred  and  eighteen 
different  papers  with  no  other  support  in  a  most  unwel- 
come task  than  the  feeling  of  duty. 

Serozha's  eyes,  shining  with  affection  and  merriment, 
grew  gloomy,  and  dropped  as  his  father  looked  at  him. 
It  was  the  same  well-remembered  way  his  father  had 
adopted  in  his  treatment  of  him,  and  Serozha  had  already 
schooled  himself  to  be  hypocritical  toward  it. 

He  felt  that  his  father  always  spoke  as  if  he  were 
addressing  some  imaginary  boy,  one  of  those  children 
found  in  books,  and  not  in  the  least  like  Serozha.  And 
Serozha,  when  he  was  with  his  father,  tried  to  make 
believe  that  he  was  that  bookish  little  boy. 

"You  understand  this,  I  hope." 

"  Yes,  papa,"  repKed  the  lad,  playing  the  part  of  this 
imaginary  little  boy. 

The  lesson  consisted  of  the  recitation  of  several  verses 
of  the  Gospel  and  the  review  of  the  first  part  of  the  Old 
Testament.  The  verses  from  the  Gospel  Serozha  knew 
fairly  well.  But,  as  he  was  in  the  midst  of  so  repeating 
them,  Serozha  was  struck  by  the  appearance  of  his 
father's  forehead,  which  made  almost  a  right  angle  near 
the  temples,  and  he  stumbled  and  transferred  the  end  of 
one  verse  to  the  next  verse  which  began  with  the  same 
word.  Aleksei"  Aleksandrovitch  concluded  that  he  did 
not  understand  the  meaning  of  what  he  was  reciting, 
and  he  was  vexed. 

He  frowned,  and  began  to  explain  what  Serozha  had 
heard  so  many  times  that  he  could  not  help  remember- 
ing because  he  understood  it  too  well  —  just  as  it  was 
with  the  concept  of  the  word  vdrug,  suddenly,  being  "  a 
circumstance  of  the  mode  of  action."     The  child,  with 


ANNA   KARENINA  -27 

scared  eyes,  looked  at  his  father  and  thought  about  only 
one  thing :  would  his  father  oblige  him  to  repeat  the 
explanation  that  he  had  given  him,  as  he  had  done  at 
other  times  ?  This  fear  kept  him  from  understanding 
anything.  Fortunately  his  father  passed  on  to  the  les- 
son in  Sacred  History.  Serozha  narrated  the  facts  them- 
selves very  well ;  but  when  he  was  required  to  answer 
the  questions  as  to  what  the  fact  signified  he  did  not 
know  it  at  all,  though  he  had  already  been  punished  for 
this  same  lesson.  The  place  where  he  could  not  recite 
and  hesitated,  and  where  he  had  whittled  the  table  and 
rocked  the  chair,  was  the  critical  moment  when  he  had 
to  repeat  the  list  of  antediluvian  patriarchs.  Not  one 
could  he  remember,  not  even  Enoch,  who  was  snatched 
up  to  heaven  alive.  On  other  occasions  he  could  re- 
member his  name,  but  now  he  had  entirely  forgotten  it, 
for  the  very  reason  that  Enoch  was  his  favorite  char- 
acter in  all  Biblical  history,  and  he  connected  with  the 
translation  of  this  patriarch  a  long  string  of  ideas  which 
completely  absorbed  him,  while  he  was  staring  at  his 
father's  watch-chain  and  a  loose  button  on  his  waist- 
coat. 

Serozha  absolutely  disbelieved  in  death,  though  they 
had  told  him  about  it  many  times.  He  could  not  be- 
lieve that  those  whom  he  loved  could  die,  and  espe- 
cially incredible  was  the  thought  of  his  own  death.  It 
all  seemed  perfectly  impossible  and  incomprehensible. 
But  he  had  been  told  that  all  must  die ;  he  had  asked 
people  in  whom  he  had  confidence,  and  they  had  assured 
him  that  it  was  so.  The  nurse  herself,  though  unwill- 
ingly, said  the  same  thing.  But  Enoch  did  not  die,  and 
perhaps  others  might  not  have  to  die. 

"Why  should  not  others  deserve  justice  before  God, 
and  so  be  snatched  up  to  heaven  alive  ? "  thought  Se- 
rozha. "The  wicked  —  those  whom  he  disliked  —  might 
have  to  die,  but  the  good  might  be  like  Enoch." 

"  Well !  how  about  these  patriarchs .''  " 

"  Enoch  ....  Enos  ....  " 

"You  have  already  mentioned  him.  This  is  bad,  Se- 
rozha, very  bad.     If  you  do  not  endeavor  to  learn  the 


28-  ANNA    KARENINA 

things  essential  for  every  Christian  to  know,  what  will 
become  of  you?"  asked  his  father,  getting  up.  "I  am 
dissatisfied  with  you,  and  Piotr  Ignatyevitch  " —  he  was 
the  professor —  "  is  dissatisfied  with  you  ....  so  I  am  com- 
pelled to  puni^  you." 

Father  and  pedagogue  both  found  fault  with  him, 
and  Serozha  was  doubtless  making  bad  work  of  it. 
Yet  it  could  not  possibly  be  said  that  he  was  a  stupid 
boy  ;  on  the  contrary,  he  was  far  superior  to  those  whom 
his  teacher  held  up  to  him  as  examples.  From  his 
father's  point  of  view,  he  did  not  want  to  learn  what 
was  taught  him.  In  reality,  it  was  because  he  could 
not  learn  it.  He  could  not  for  the  reason  that  his 
mind  had  needs  more  essential  to  him  than  those  that 
his  father  and  the  pedagogue  supposed.  These  needs 
were  wholly  opposed  to  what  they  gave  him,  and  he 
revolted  against  his  teachers. 

He  was  only  nine  years  old.  He  was  only  a  child ; 
but  he  knew  his  own  soul.  It  was  dear  to  him ;  he 
guarded  it  jealously,  as  the  eyelid  guards  the  eye ;  and 
no  one  should  force  a  way  in  without  the  key  of  love. 
His  teachers  blamed  him  for  being  unwilling  to  learn, 
and  yet  he  was  all  on  fire  with  the  yearning  for  knowl- 
edge ;  and  he  learned  from  Kapitonuitch,  his  old  nurse, 
Nadenka,  and  Vasili  Lukitch,  but  not  from  his  teachers. 
The  water  which  the  father  and  the  pedagogue  poured 
on  the  mill-wheel  was  wasted,  but  the  work  was  done 
in  another  place. 

His  father  punished  Serozha  by  not  letting  him  go 
to  see  Nadenka ;  but  his  punishment  turned  out  to  be 
an  advantage.  Vasili  Lukitch  was  in  good  humpr,  and 
taught  him  how  to  make  wind-mills.  The  whole  after- 
noon was  spent  in  working  and  thinking  of  the  ways 
and  means  to  make  the  mill  go.  Should  he  fix  wings 
to  it,  or  arrange  it  so  he  could  turn  it  himself }  He 
forgot  about  his  mother  all  the  evening ;  but  after  he 
had  got  into  bed,  he  suddenly  remembered  her,  and 
he  prayed  in  his  own  fashion  that  she  might  cease  to 
hide  herself  from  him,  and  make  him  a  visit  the  next 
day,  which  was  his  birthday. 


ANNA   KARENINA  29 

"Vasili  Lukitch,  do  you  know  what  I  prayed  God 
for?" 

"To  study  better?" 

"No." 

"Toys?" 

"  No.  You  must  not  guess.  It  is  a  secret ;  when 
it  comes  to  pass,  I  will  tell  you.     Can't  you  guess  ?  " 

"No,  I  can't  guess;  you  must  tell  me!"  said  Vasili 
Lukitch,  smiling,  which  was  rare  with  him.  "Well, 
get  into  bed;  I  am  going  to  put  out  the  light." 

''  I  see  that  which  I  prayed  for  much  better  when 
there  is  n't  any  light.  There,  I  almost  told  my  se- 
cret !  "  cried  Serozha,  laughing  gayly. 

Serozha  believed  that  he  heard  his  mother  and  felt 
her  presence  when  he  was  in  the  dark.  She  was  stand- 
ing near  him,  and  looking  at  him  tenderly  with  her  lov- 
ing eyes ;  then  he  saw  a  mill,  a  knife ;  then  all  melted 
into  darkness,  and  he  was  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

When  Vronsky  and  Anna  reached  Petersburg,  they 
stopped  at  one  of  the  best  hotels.  Vronsky  had  a  room 
to  himself  on  the  ground  floor ;  Anna,  up  one  flight  of 
stairs,  with  her  baby,  the  nurse,  and  her  maid,  occupied 
a  suite  of  four  rooms. 

On  the  day  of  his  return,  Vronsky  went  to  see  his 
brother ;  he  there  found  his  mother,  who  had  come 
down  from  Moscow  on  business.  His  mother  and  sis- 
ter-in-law received  him  as  usual,  asked  him  about  his 
travels,  spoke  of  common  friends,  but  not  by  a  word 
did  they  make  any  allusion  to  Anna.  His  brother, 
however,  who  returned  his  call  the  next  morning,  asked 
him  about  her  and  AlekseT.  Vronsky  declared  in  no 
equivocal  terms  that  he  considered  the  bond  which 
united  him  to  Madame  Karenin  the  same  as  marriage, 
that  he  hoped  a  divorce  would  be  obtained,  and  then 
he  should  marry  her,  but  till  that  time,  he  'should  re- 


30 


ANNA   KARENINA 


gard  her  the  same  as  his  wife ;  and  he  asked  him  to 
explain  this  to  his  mother  and  sister-m-law. 

"  The  world  may  not  approve  of  me ;  that  is  all  one 
to  me,"  he  added;  "but  if  my  family  wish  to  remain 
on  good  terms  with  me,  they  must  show  proper  respect 
for  my  wife." 

The  elder  brother,  always  very  respectful  of  his 
brother's  opinions,  was  not  very  certain  in  his  own 
mind  whether  he  was  doing  right  or  not,  and  resolved 
to  let  society  settle  this  question ;  but,  as  far  as  he  him- 
self was  concerned,  he  saw  nothing  objectionable  in  this, 
and  he  went  with  Aleksei  to  call  on  Anna. 

Vronsky  spoke  to  Anna  with  the  formal  vuz,  you, 
as  he  always  did  before  strangers,  and  treated  her  as 
a  mere  acquaintance ;  but  it  was  perfectly  understood 
that  the  brother  knew  of  their  relations,  and  they  spoke 
freely  of  Anna's  visit  to  Vronsky's  estate. 

Notwithstanding  his  experience  in  society,  Vronsky, 
in  consequence  of  this  new  state  of  things,  fell  into  a 
strange  error.  It  would  seem  as  if  he  ought  to  have 
understood  that  society  would  shut  its  doors  on  him 
and  Anna;  but  now  he  persuaded  himself  by  a  strange 
freak  of  imagination  that,  however  it  might  have  been 
in  former  days,  now,  owing  to  the  rapid  progress  made 
by  society,  —  and  he  had  himself  unconsciously  become 
a  strong  supporter  of  progress,  —  prejudices  would  have 
melted  away,  and  the  question  whether  they  would  be 
received  by  society  would  not  trouble  them. 

"  Of  course,  she  would  not  be  received  at  court,"  he 
thought ;  "  but  our  relatives,  our  friends,  will  understand 
things  as  they  are." 

A  man  may  sit  for  some  time  with  his  legs  doubled 
up  in  one  position,  provided  he  knows  that,  he  can 
change  it  at  pleasure ;  but  if  he  knows  that  he  must  sit 
in  such  a  constrained  position,  then  he  will  feel  cramped, 
and  his  legs  will  twitch  and  stretch  out  toward  the  de- 
sired freedom.  Vronsky  experienced  this  in  regard  to 
society.  Though  he  knew  in  the  bottom  of  his  soul  that 
society  was  closed  to  them,  he  made  experiment  whether 
it   had  changed,  and  whether   it  would  receive  thera 


ANNA    KARENINA  31 

But  he  quickly  found  that,  even  if  it  were  open  to  him 
personally,  it  was  closed  to  Anna.  As  in  the  game  of 
•'  Cat-and-Mouse,"  ^  the  hands  raised  for  him  immedi- 
ately fell  before  Anna. 

One  of  the  first  ladies  of  Petersburg  society  whom  he 
met  was  his  cousin  Betsy. 

"At  last.''"  she  cried  joyously,  "and  Anna.^  How 
glad  I  am  !  Where  are  you  stopping  .-*  I  can  easily 
imagine  the  hideous  effect  our  Petersburg  must  have  on 
you  after  such  a  charming  journey !  I  can  imagine 
your  honeymoon  in  Rome !  And  the  divorce  ?  is  it 
arranged .'' " 

Vronsky  saw  that  Betsy's  enthusiasm  cooled  when 
she  learned  that  there  was  no  divorce  as  yet. 

"I  know  well  that  I  shall  be  stoned,"  said  she;  "but 
I  am  coming  to  see  Anna.  Yes,  I  will  certainly  come. 
You  won't  stay  here  long,  I  imagine  ?  " 

In  fact  she  called  on  Anna  that  very  day ;  but  her 
manner  was  entirely  different  from  what  it  used  to  be. 
She  evidently  prided  herself  on  her  courage,  and  wanted 
Anna  to  appreciate  the  genuineness  of  her  friendship. 
After  talking  for  about  ten  minutes  on  the  news  of  the 
day,  she  got  up,  and  said  as  she  went  away  :  — 

"  You  have  not  told  me  yet  when  the  divorce  is  to  be. 
Though  I  may  disregard  the  proprieties,^  stiff-necked 
people  will  give  you  the  cold  shoulder  as  long  as  you 
are  not  married.  And  it  is  so  easy  nowadays.  Ca  se  fait. 
So  you  are  going  Friday }  I  am  sorry  we  shall  not  see 
each  other  again." 

From  Betsy's  manner  Vronsky  might  have  got  an  idea 
of  what  he  might  expect  from  society.  But  he  made 
still  another  experiment  in  his  own  family.  He  had 
no  hope  of  any  assistance  from  his  mother.  He  knew 
well  that,  enthusiastic  though  she  had  been  in  Anna's 
praise  at  their  first  meeting,  she  would  be  relentless 
toward  her  now  that  she  had  spoiled  her  son's  career ; 
but  Vronsky  founded  great  hopes  on  Varia,  his  brother's 
wife.     It  seemed  to  him  that  she  would  not  be  one  to 

^  Koshka-muishka. 

2  Zabrosit  chepets  c/ieres  mielnitsu^  to  throw  one's  cap  over  the  milL 


32 


ANNA    KARENINA 


cast  a  stone  at  Anna,  but  would  come  simply  and  natu- 
rally to  see  her. 

On  the  next  day  he  called  on  her,  and,  finding  her 
alone,  he  openly  expressed  his  desire. 

"  You  know,  AlekseT,  how  fond  I  am  of  you,"  replied 
Varia,  after  hearing  what  he  had  to  say,  "and  how  will- 
ing I  am  to  do  anything  for  you ;  but  if  I  kept  silent,  it 
is  because  I  know  that  I  cannot  be  of  the  least  use  to 
you  and  Anna  Arkadyevna."  She  took  special  pains 
to  use  the  two  names.  "  Please  don't  think  that  I  judge 
her  —  not  at  all ;  perhaps  I  should  have  done  the  same 
thing  in  her  place.  I  cannot  enter  into  details,"  she 
added,  glancing  timidly  up  at  his  clouded  face ;  "  but 
we  must  call  things  by  their  right  name.  You  would 
like  me  to  go  and  see  her,  and  then  have  her  visit  me, 
in  order  to  restore  her  to  society.  But  you  must  know 
/  cannot  do  it.  My  daughters  are  growing  up ;  I  am 
obliged,  on  my  husband's  account,  to  go  into  society. 
Now,  I  will  go  and  call  on  Anna  Arkadyevna ;  but 
she  knows  that  I  cannot  invite  her  here  lest  she  should 
meet  in  my  drawing-room  people  who  do  not  think 
as  I  do,  and  that  would  wound  her.  I  cannot  receive 
her.".... 

"  But  I  do  not  admit  that  she  has  fallen  lower  than 
hundreds  of  women  whom  you  receive,"  interrupted 
Vronsky,  rising,  and  seeing  that  his  sister-in-law's  de- 
cision was  irrevocable. 

"  Aleksef,  don't  be  angry  with  me ;  please  under- 
stand, it  is  not  my  fault,"  said  Varia,  looking  at  him 
with  a  timid  smile. 

"  I  am  not  angry  with  you,  but  I  suffer  doubly,"  said 
he,  growing  more  and  more  gloomy.  "  I  suffer  because 
this  breaks  our  friendship,  or,  at  least,  seriously  impairs 
it ;  for  you  must  know  that  for  me  this  could  not  be 
otherwise." 

He  left  her  with  these  words. 

Vronsky  understood  that  further  experiments  would 
be  idle,  and  that,  during  the  few  days  he  would  still 
have  to  spend  in  Petersburg,  he  must  act  as  if  he  were 
in  a  foreign  city,  avoiding  all  dealings  with  his  former 


ANNA    KARENINA  33 

society  friends  so  as  not  to  be  subjected  to  vexations 
and  affronts  which  were  so  painful  to  him. 

One  of  the  most  unpleasant  features  of  his  position 
in  Petersburg  was  the  fact  that  AlekseY  Aleksandro- 
vitch  and  his  name  seemed  to  be  everywhere.  It  was 
impossible  for  a  conversation  to  begin  on  any  subject 
without  turning  on  AlekseT  Aleksandrovitch ;  it  was 
impossible  to  go  anywhere  without  meeting  him.  So, 
at  least,  it  seemed  to  Vronsky  ;  just  as  it  seems  to  a 
man  with  a  sore  finger,  that  he  is  always  hitting  it 
against  everything. 

Their  stay  in  Petersburg  seemed  to  Vronsky  still  more 
trying  because  all  the  time  he  saw  that  Anna  was  in  a 
strange,  incomprehensible  moral  frame  of  mind  such  as 
he  had  never  seen  before.  At  one  time  she  was  more 
than  usually  affectionate ;  then  again  she  would  seem 
cold,  irritable,  and  enigmatical.  Something  was  tor- 
menting her,  and  she  was  concealing  something  from 
him  ;  and  she  seemed  not  to  notice  the  indignities  which 
poisoned  his  life,  and  which,  in  her  delicacy  of  percep- 
tion, should  have  been  even  more  painful  for  her. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

Anna's  chief  desire  on  her  return  to  Russia  was  to 
see  her  son.  From  the  day  she  left  Italy  the  thought 
of  seeing  him  again  kept  her  in  a  constant  state  of  ex- 
citement ;  and  in  proportion  as  she  drew  near  Peters- 
burg the  prospective  delight  and  importance  of  this 
meeting  kept  growing  greater  and  greater.  She  did  not 
trouble  herself  with  the  question  how  she  should  man- 
age it.  It  would  be  a  simple  and  natural  thing,  she 
thought,  to  see  her  son  once  more,  when  she  would  be 
in  the  same  town  with  him  ;  but  since  her  arrival  she 
suddenly  realized  her  present  relation  toward  society, 
and  found  that  the  interview  was  not  easy  to  obtain. 

She  had  been  two  days  now  in  Petersburg,  and  never 
for  an  instant  had  the  thought  of  her  son  left  her,  but 
she  had  not  seen  him. 

VOL.  III. —  3 


34  ANNA    KARENINA 

She  felt  that  she  had  no  right  to  go  straight  to  hei 
former  home  and  risk  coming  face  to  face  with  Alek- 
se'i  Aleksandrovitch.  She  might  not  be  admitted  ;  she 
miffht  be  insulted.  To  write  to  her  husband  and  ask 
permission  of  him  seemed  to  her  painful  even  to  think 
of.  She  could  be  calm  only  when  she  did  not  think 
of  her  husband.  To  see  her  son  when  he  was  out  tak- 
ing his  walk,  even  if  she  could  find  where  and  when  he 
went,  was  too  little  for  her.  She  had  counted  so  much 
on  seeing  him  again  !  she  had  so  much  to  say  to  him  ; 
she  had  such  a  desire  to  hug  him,  to  kiss  him. 

Serozha's  old  nurse  might  have  been  an  assistance  to 
her,  and  shown  her  how  to  manage ;  but  she  was  no 
longer  living  in  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch's  house. 

On  the  third  day,  having  learned  of  Aleksei  Alek- 
sandrovitch's intimate  relations  with  the  Countess  Lidia 
Ivanovna,  Anna  decided  to  write  her  a  letter,  and  this  cost 
her  the  greatest  pains  to  write.  She  told  her  frankly 
that  permission  to  see  her  son  depended  on  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch's  magnanimity.  She  knew  that  if  the 
letter  were  shown  to  her  husband,  he,  in  his  part  of 
magnanimous  man,  would  not  refuse  her. 

The  messenger  that  carried  the  letter  brought  back 
the  most  cruel  and  unexpected  reply,  that  there  was  no 
answer.  She  had  never  felt  so  wounded  as  at  the  mo- 
ment when,  summoning  the  messenger,  she  heard  from 
him  the  circumstantial  story  of  how  he  had  waited,  and 
how,  after  a  time,  he  had  been  told  that  there  would  be 
no  answer.  Anna  felt  humiliated,  insulted,  but  she  saw 
that,  from  her  point  of  view,  the  countess  was  right. 
Her  grief  was  all  the  keener  because  she  had  to  bear 
it  alone.  She  could  not  and  did  not  wish  to  confide  it 
to  Vronsky.  She  knew  that  though  he  was  the  chief 
cause  of  her  unhappiness,  he  would  regard  her  meeting 
with  her  son  as  of  little  account ;  she  knew  that  he 
would  never  be  able  to  sound  ail  the  depths  of  her  an- 
guish ;  she  knew  that  she  should  hate  him  for  the  un- 
sympathetic tone  in  which  he  would  speak  of  it.  And 
she  feared  this  more  than  anything  else  in  the  world, 
and  so  hid  from  him  her  action  in  regard  to  her  son. 


ANNA    KARENINA  35 

She  stayed  at  home  all  day  long  and  racked  her 
brain  to  think  of  other  ways  of  meeting  her  son,  and 
finally  she  decided  to  write  directly  to  her  husband. 
She  had  already  begun  her  letter,  when  Lidia  Iva- 
novna's  reply  was  brought  to  her.  The  countess's  pre- 
vious silence  had  humbled  and  affronted  her,  but  the 
note  and  all  that  she  read  between  the  lines  so  exas- 
perated her,  • —  this  bitterness  against  her  seemed  so 
shocking  when  contrasted  with  her  passionate,  legiti- 
mate affection  for  her  son,  that  she  grew  indignant 
against  the  others,  and  ceased  to  blame  herself. 

"  What  cruelty  !  What  hypocrisy  !  "  she  said  to  her- 
self. "  All  they  want  is  to  insult  me  and  torment  the 
child.  I  will  not  let  them  do  so.  She  is  worse  than  I 
am  ;  at  least,  I  do  not  lie." 

She  immediately  decided  to  go  on  the  morrow,  which 
was  Serozha's  birthday,  directly  to  her  husband's  house; 
she  would  bribe  the  servants,  and  would  make  any  kind 
of  an  excuse,  if  only  she  might  once  see  her  son  and  put 
an  end  to  the  ugly  network  of  lies  with  which  they  were 
surrounding  the  innocent  child. 

She  went  to  a  toy  shop  and  purchased  some  toys,  and 
thus  she  formed  her  plan  of  action :  she  would  start 
early  in  the  morning,  at  eight  o'clock,  before  Aleksef 
Aleksandrovitch  would  probably  be  up  ;  she  would  have 
the  money  in  her  hand  all  ready  to  bribe  the  Swiss  and 
the  valet  to  let  her  go  up-stairs  without  raising  her  veil, 
under  the  pretext  of  laying  on  Serozha's  bed  some  pres- 
ents sent  by  his  godfather.  As  to  what  she  should  say 
to  her  son,  she  could  not  form  the  least  idea ;  she  could 
not  make  any  preparation  for  that. 

The  next  morning,  at  eight  o'clock,  Anna  got  out  of 
her  hired  carriage  and  rang  the  door-bell  of  her  former 
home. 

"  Go  and  see  what  is  wanted  !  It's  some  lady,"  said 
Kapitonuitch,  in  loose  coat  and  galoshes,  as  he  looked 
out  of  the  window  and  saw  a  lady  closely  veiled  stand- 
ing on  the  porch.  The  Swiss's  assistant,  a  young  man 
whom  Anna  did  not  know,  had  scarcely  opened  the 
door  before  Anna  pushed  her  way  in,  and,  drawing  a 


36  ANNA   KARENINA 

three-ruble   note   out  of   her   muff,  thrust   it   into   his 
hand. 

"Serozha....  Sergyei  Aleksievitch,"  she  stammered, 
and  started  down  the  vestibule. 

The  Swiss's  assistant  examined  the  note,  and  stopped 
the  visitor  at  the  inner  glass  door. 

"Whom  do  you  wish  to  see.?"  he  asked. 

She  did  not  hear  his  words,  and  made  no  reply. 

Kapitonuitch,  noticing  the  stranger's  confusion,  came 
out,  let  her  into  the  entry,  and  asked  her  what  she 
wanted. 

"  I  come  from  Prince  Skorodumof  to  see  Sergyei 
Aleksievitch." 

"  He  is  not  up  yet,"  replied  the  Swiss,  looking  sharply 
at  her. 

Anna  had  never  dreamed  that  the  absolutely  un- 
changed appearance  of  the  anteroom  of  the  house  which 
for  nine  years  had  been  her  home  could  have  such  a 
powerful  effect  on  her. 

One  after  another,  sweet  and  painful  memories  arose 
in  her  mind,  and  for  a  moment  she  forgot  why  she  was 
there. 

"  Will  you  wait .'' "  asked  the  Swiss,  helping  her  to 
remove  her  shubka.  When  he  saw  her  face,  he  recog- 
nized her,  and  without  a  word  bowed  profoundly. 

"  Will  your  ladyship  ^  be  pleased  to  enter  ? "  he  said 
to  her. 

She  tried  to  speak,  but  her  voice  refused  to  utter  a 
sound.  Giving  the  old  servant  an  entreating  look,  with 
light,  swift  steps  she  went  to  the  staircase.  She  flew  up 
the  stairs.  Kapitonuitch  tried  to  overtake  her,  and  fol- 
lowed after  her,  catching  his  galoshes  at  every  step. 

"  His  tutor  is  there  ;  perhaps  he  is  not  dressed  yet ;  I 
will  speak  to  him." 

Anna  kept  on  up  the  stairs  which  she  knew  so  well, 
not  heeding  what  the  old  man  said. 

"This  way.  To  the  left,  if  you  please.  Excuse  it  if 
all  is  in  disorder.  He  sleeps  in  the  front  room  now," 
said  the  Swiss,  out  of  breath.     "  Will  your  ladyship  be 

1  Vashe  prtvoskhodityehtvo,  literally,  your  excellency. 


ANNA   KARENINA  37 

good  enough  to  wait  a  moment  ?     I  will  go  and  see.* 
And,  opening  the  high  door,  he  disappeared. 

Anna  stopped  and  waited. 

"  He  has  just  waked  up,"  said  the  Swiss,  coming 
back  through  the  same  door. 

And,  as  he  spoke,  Anna  heard  the  sound  of  a  child 
yawning,  and  merely  by  the  sound  of  the  yawn  she 
recognized  her  son  and  seemed  to  see  him  alive  before  her. 

"  Let  me  go  in ....  let  me  !  "  she  cried,  and  hurriedly 
pushed  through  the  door. 

At  the  right  of  the  door  stood  the  bed,  and  on  the 
bed  a  child  was  sitting  up  in  his  little  open  night- 
gown ;  his  little  body  was  leaning  forward,  and  he  was 
just  finishing  a  yawn  and  stretching  himself.  His  hps 
were  just  closing  into  a  sleepy  smile,  and,  with  this 
smile,  he  slowly  and  gently  fell  back  on  his  pillow. 

"  Serozha ! "  she  whispered,  as  she  went  noiselessly 
toward  him. 

At  the  time  of  their  separation  and  during  that  access 
of  love  which  she  had  been  recently  experiencing  for 
him,  Anna  had  imagined  him  as  still  a  boy  of  four,  the 
age  when  he  had  been  most  charming.  Now  he  no 
longer  bore  any  resemblance  to  him  whom  she  had  left ; 
he  was  still  further  removed  from  the  four-year-old 
ideal ;  he  had  grown  taller  and  thinner.  How  long  his 
face  seemed  !  How  short  his  hair !  What  long  arms  ! 
How  he  had  changed  since  she  had  seen  him  last !  But 
it  was  still  Serozha — the  shape  of  his  head,  his  lips, 
his  little  slender  neck,  and  his  broad  little  shoulders. 

"  Serozha  !  "  she  whispered  in  the  child's  ear. 

He  raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  turned  his  disheveled 
head  first  to  this  side,  then  to  that,  as  if  searching  for 
something,  and  opened  his  eyes.  For  several  seconds 
he  looked  with  an  inquiring  face  at  his  mother,  who 
stood  motionless  before  him.  Then  he  suddenly  smiled 
with  joy,  and  again  closing  his  sleepy  eyes  he  threw 
himself,  not  back  upon  his  pillow,  but  into  his  mother's 
arms. 

"  Serozha,  my  dear  little  boy  !  "  ^  she  cried,  choking 

^  Serozha  !  maPchik  i/io'i  tnihti. 


38  ANNA   KARENINA 

with  tears,  and  throwing  her  arms  around  his  plump 
body. 

"  Mamma !  "  he  whispered,  cuddhng  into  his  mother's 
arms  so  as  to  feel  their  encircling  pressure. 

Smiling  sleepily,  still  with  his  eyes  closed,  he  took 
his  chubby  little  hands  from  the  head  of  the  bed  and 
put  them  on  his  mother's  shoulder  and  climbed  into  her 
lap,  having  that  warm  breath  of  sleep  peculiar  to  chil- 
dren, and  pressed  his  face  to  his  mother's  neck  and 
shoulders. 

"I  knew,"  he  said,  opening  his  eyes;  "to-day  is  my 
birthday  ;  I  knew  that  you  would  come.  I  am  going  to 
get  up  now." 

And  as  he  spoke  he  fell  asleep  again. 

Anna  devoured  him  with  her  eyes.  She  saw  how  he 
had  grown  and  changed  during  her  absence.  She  knew 
and  yet  she  did  not  know  his  bare  legs,  so  much  longer 
now,  coming  below  his  nightgown ;  she  recognized  his 
cheeks  grown  thin  ;  his  short  hair  curled  in  the  neck 
where  she  had  so  often  kissed  it.  She  could  not  keep 
her  hands  from  him,  and  not  a  word  was  she  able  to  say, 
and  the  tears  choked  her. 

"What  are  you  crying  for,  mamma  .-' "  he  asked,  now 
entirely  awake.  "  What  makes  you  cry  .-'  "  he  repeated, 
ready  to  weep  himself. 

"  I  will  not  cry  any  more....  I  am  crying  for  joy.  It 
is  so  long  since  I  have  seen  you.  But  I  will  not,  I  will 
not  cry  any  more,"  said  she,  drying  her  tears  and  turn- 
ing around.  "  Now  go  and  get  dressed,"  she  added, 
after  she  had  grown  a  little  calmer,  but  still  holding 
Serozha's  hand.  She  sat  down  near  the  bed  on  a  chair 
which  held  the  child's  clothing.     "  How  do  you  dress 

without   me?      How "she  wanted   to   speak  simply 

and  gayly,  but  she  could  not,  and  again  she  turned  her 
head  away. 

"  I  don't  wash  in  cold  water  any  more,  papa  has  for- 
bidden it ;  but  you  have  not  seen  Vasili  Lukitch  ?  Here 
he  comes.     But  you  arc  sitting  on  my  things." 

And  Serozha  laughed  heartily.  She  looked  at  him 
and  smiled. 


ANNA    KARENINA 


39 


"  Mamma !  dear  heart,  darling,"  ^  he  cried,  again 
throwing  himself  into  her  arms,  as  if  now  for  the  first 
time,  having  seen  her  smile,  he  clearly  understood  what 
had  happened. 

"You  don't  need  it  on,"  said  he,  taking  off  her  hat. 
And  as  if  again  recognizing  her  with  her  head  bare,  he 
began  to  kiss  her  again. 

"  What  did  you  think  of  me  ?  Did  you  believe  that  I 
was  dead  .<* " 

"  I  never  believed  it." 

"  You  believed  me  alive,  my  precious  ?  " 

"  I  knew  it !  I  knew  it !  "  he  replied,  repeating  his 
favorite  phrase ;  and,  seizing  her  hand  which  was  smooth- 
ing his  hair,  he  pressed  the  palm  of  it  to  his  little  mouth 
and  began  to  kiss  it. 


CHAPTER   XXX 

Vasili  Lukitch,  meantime,  not  at  first  knowing  who 
this  lady  was,  but  learning  from  their  conversation  that 
it  was  Serozha's  mother,  the  woman  who  had  deserted 
her  husband,  and  whom  he  did  not  know,  as  he  had.  not 
come  into  the  house  till  after  her  departure,  was  in  great 
perplexity.  Ought  he  to  go  to  his  pupil,  or. should  he 
^11  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  ? 

On  mature  reflection  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
his  duty  consisted  in  going  to  dress  Serozha  at  the  usual 
hour,  without  paying  any  attention  to  a  third  person  — 
his  mother  o^  any  one  else.  So  he  dressed  himself. 
But  as  he  reached  the  door  and  opened  it,  the  sight  of 
the  caresses  between  the  mother  and  child,  the  sound  of 
their  voices  and  their  words,  made  him  change  his  mind. 
He  shook  his  head,  sighed,  and  quietly  closed  the  door. 
"  I  will  wait  ten  minutes  longer,"  he  said  to  himself, 
coughing  slightly,  and  wiping  his  eyes. 

There  was  great  excitement  among  the  servants ;  they 
all  knew  that  the  baruinya  had  come,  and  that  Kapitonu- 

^  Dushenka,  galubushka. 


40  ANNA    KARENINA 

itch  had  let  her  in,  and  that  she  was  in  the  child's  room; 
they  knew,  too,  that  their  master  was  in  the  habit  of 
going  to  Serozha  every  morning  at  nine  o'clock :  each 
one  felt  that  the  husband  and  wife  ought  not  to  meet, 
that  it  must  be  prevented. 

Kornei,  the  valet,  went  down  to  the  Swiss  to  ask  why 
Anna  had  been  let  in  ;  and,  finding  that  Kapitonuitch 
had  taken  her  up-stairs,  he  reprimanded  him  severely. 
The  Swiss  maintained  an  obstinate  silence  till  the  valet 
declared  that  he  deserved  to  lose  his  place,  when  the  old 
man  jumped  at  him,  and,  shaking  his  fist  in  his  face, 
said :  — 

"  What  is  that .''  you  would  not  let  her  in  ?  You  've 
served  here  ten  years,  and  had  nothing  but  kindness 
from  her,  but  you  would  have  said,  '  Now,  go  away  from 
here  ! '  You  know  what  policy  is,  you  sly  dog.  What 
you  don't  forget  is  to  rob  your  master,  and  to  carry  off 
his  racoon-skin  shubas  !  " 

"  Soldier  !  "  repHed  Kornei,  scornfully,  and  he  turned 
toward  the  nurse,  who  was  coming  in  just  at  this  mo- 
ment. "  What  do  you  think,  Marya  Yefimovna .''  He 
has  let  in  Anna  Arkadyevna,  without  saying  anything 
to  anybody,  and  just  when  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  as 
soon  as  he  is  up,  will  be  going  to  the  nursery." 

"What  a  scrape!  what  a  scrape!"  said  the  nurse. 
"  But,  Kornei  Vasilyevitch,  find  some  way  to  keep 
your  master,  while  I  run  to  warn  her,  and  get  her  out 
of  the  way.     What  a  scrape  !  " 

When  the  nurse  went  into  the  child's  room,  Serozha 
was  telHng  his  mother  how  Nadenka  and  he  had  fallen 
when  sliding  down  a  hill  of  ice,  and  turned  three  somer- 
saults. Anna  was  listening  to  the  sound  of  her  son's 
voice,  looking  at  his  face,  watching  the  play  of  his  fea- 
tures, feeling  his  little  arms,  but  not  hearing  a  word 
that  he  said.  She  had  to  go  away,  she  had  to  leave 
him ;  this  alone  she  understood  and  felt.  She  had 
heard  Vasili  Lukitch's  steps,  and  his  little  discreet 
cough,  as  he  came  to  the  door,  and  now  she  heard  the 
nurse  coming  in  ;  but,  unable  to  move  or  to  speak,  she 
remained  as  fixed  as  a  statue. 


I 


ANNA    KARENINA  41 

"  Mistress,  darling,"  ^  said  the  nurse,  coming  up  to 
Anna,  and  kissing  her  hands  and  her  shoulders.  "  God 
sent  this  joy  for  our  birthday  celebration  !  You  are  not 
changed  at  all." 

"  Akh  !  nurse,  my  dear  ;  I  did  not  know  that  you  were 
in  the  house,"  said  Anna,  coming  to  herself. 

"  I  don't  live  here ;  I  live  with  my  daughter.  I  came 
to  give  my  best  wishes  to  Serozha,  Anna  Arkadyevna, 
galubushka." 

The  nurse  suddenly  began  to  weep,  and  to  kiss  Anna's 
hand. 

Serozha,  with  bright,  joyful  eyes,  and  holding  his 
mother  with  one  hand  and  his  nurse  with  the  other,  was 
dancing  in  his  little  bare  feet  on  the  carpet.  His  old 
nurse's  tenderness  toward  his  mother  was  delightful  to 
him. 

"  Mamma,  she  often  comes  to  see  me  ;  and  when  she 
comes  ...."  he  began,  but  he  stopped  short  when  he  per- 
ceived that  the  nurse  whispered  something  in  his  mother's 
ear,  and  that  his  mother's  face  assumed  an  expression  of 
fear,  and  something  like  shame  which  did  not  go  well 
with  his  mother. 

Anna  went  to  him. 

"  My  precious  !  "  she  said. 

She  could  not  say  the  word  pj-asJicJia'i,  "  farewell  "  ;  but 
the  expression  of  her  face  said  it,  and  he  understood. 

"  My  precious,  precious  Kutik!  "  she  said,  calling  him 
by  a  pet  name  which  she  used  when  he  was  a  baby. 
"You  will  not  forget  me  ;  you  ...."  but  she  could  not  say 
another  word. 

Only  then  she  began  to  think  of  the  words  which  she 
wanted  to  say  to  him,  but  now  it  was  impossible  to  say 
them.  But  Serozha  understood  all  that  she  would  have 
said  ;  he  understood  that  she  was  unhappy,  and  that  she 
loved  him.  He  even  understood  what  the  nurse  whis- 
pered in  her  ear ;  he  heard  the  words  "  always  at  nine 
o'clock,"  and  he  knew  that  they  referred  to  his  father, 
and  that  his  mother  must  not  meet  him.  He  understood 
this,  but  one  thing  he  could  not  understand  :  why  did  her 

1  Baruinya,  gahihushka. 


42  ANNA    KARENINA 

face  express  fear  and  shame  ? ....  She  was  not  to  blame, 
but  she  was  afraid  of  him,  and  seemed  ashamed  of  some- 
thing. He  wanted  to  ask  a  question  which  would  have 
explained  this  doubt,  but  he  did  not  dare ;  he  saw  that 
she  was  in  sorrow,  and  he  pitied  her.  He  silently  clung 
close  to  her,  and  then  he  whispered:  — 

"  Don't  go  yet !     He  will  not  come  for  some  time." 

His  mother  pushed  him  away  from  her  a  little,  in  or- 
der to  see  if  he  understood  the  meaning  of  what  he 
had  said,  and  in  the  frightened  expression  of  his  face 
she  perceived  that  he  not  only  spoke  of  his  father, 
but  seemed  to  ask  her  how  he  ought  to  think  about 
him. 

"  Serozha,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "  love  him  ;  he  is  better 
and  more  upright  than  I  am,  and  I  have  been  wicked 
to  him.  When  you  have  grown  up,  you  will  under- 
stand." 

"  Not  better  than  you !  "  cried  the  child,  with  sobs  of 
despair ;  and,  clinging  to  his  mother's  shoulders,  he 
squeezed  her  with  all  his  might  till  his  arms  trembled 
with  the  exertion. 

"  My  darling,  my  little  one  !  "  ^  exclaimed  Anna ;  and, 
bursting  into  tears,  she  sobbed  like  a  child,  even  as  he 
sobbed. 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  Vasili  Lukitch 
came  in.  Steps  were  heard  at  the  other  door ;  and,  in  a 
frightened  whisper,  he  exclaimed,  "  He  is  coming,"  and 
gave  Anna  her  hat. 

Serozha  threw  himself  on  the  bed,  sobbing,  and  cov- 
ered his  face  with  his  hands.  Anna  took  them  away 
to  kiss  yet  once  again  his  tear-stained  cheeks,  and  then 
with  quick  steps  hurried  from  the  room. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  met  her  at  the  door.  When 
he  saw  her,  he  stopped  and  bowed  his  head. 

Though  she  had  declared  a  moment  before  that  he 
was  better  and  more  upright  than  she,  the  swift  glance 
that  she  gave  him,  taking  in  his  whole  person,  with  all 
its  peculiarities,  awoke  in  her  only  a  feeling  of  hatred 
and  scorn  for  him,  and  jealousy  on  account  of  her  son 

^  Dushetchka,  malenki  wot. 


ANNA    KARENINA  43 

She  hurriedly  lowered    her  veil,   and,   quickening   her 
step,  almost  ran  from  the  room. 

She  had  entirely  forgotten  in  her  haste  the  play- 
things which,  on  the  evening  before,  she  had  bought 
with  so  much  love  and  sadness ;  and  she  took  them 
back  with  her  to  the  hotel. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

Eagerly  as  Anna  had  desired  to  see  her  son  again, 
long  as  she  had  thought  about  it,  prepared  herself  be- 
forehand, she  had  no  idea  of  what  an  effect  the  sight 
of  him  would  have  on  her ;  when  she  got  back  to  her 
solitary  room  at  the  hotel  again,  she  could  not  for  a 
long  time  understand  why  she  was  there. 

"Yes,  all  is  over;  I  am  alone  again,"  she  said  to 
herself ;  and,  without  taking  off  her  hat,  she  threw 
herself  into  an  easy-chair  which  stood  near  the  fireplace. 
And,  fixing  her  eyes  on  a  bronze  clock  standing  on  a 
table  between  two  windows,  she  became  absorbed  in 
thought. 

The  French  maid  whom  she  had  brought  from  abroad 
with  her  came  and  offered  to  help  her  dress ;  Anna 
looked  at  her  with  surprise,  and  replied,  "  By  and  by." 
A  servant  came  to  announce  coffee ;  "  By  and  by,"  she 
said. 

The  Italian  nurse  came  in,  bringing  the  little  daugh- 
ter whom  she  had  just  dressed  ;  the  plump,  well-nurtured 
little  one,  as  always,  when  she  saw  her  mother,  lifted  up 
her  bare  little  arms  with  the  palms  down,  and,  smiling 
with  her  toothless  little  mouth,  began  to  beat  the  air 
with  her  plump  little  hands  like  a  fish  waving  its  fins, 
and  to  pull  at  the  starched  tucks  of  her  embroidered 
skirt.  No  one  could  help  smiling  back,  or  kissing  the 
little  girl,  or  letting  her  catch  hold  of  one  of  her  fingers, 
screaming  with  delight,  and  jumping  ;  no  one  could  help 
pressing  her  lips  for  a  kiss  to  the  little  sweet  mouth. 
All  this  Anna  did,  and  she  took  her  into  her  arms,  trotted 
her  on  her  knee,  and  she  kissed  her  fresh  cheek  and 


44  ANNA    KARENINA 

bare  elbows  ;  but  the  sight  of  this  child  made  her  feel 
clearly  that  the  affection  which  she  felt  for  it  was  not 
the  same  kind  of  love  that  she  had  for  Serozha.  Every- 
thing about  this  little  girl  was  lovely ;  but  somehow  she 
did  not  fill  the  wants  of  her  heart. 

In  her  first-born,  although  he  was  the  child  of  a  man 
whom  she  did  not  love,  was  concentrated  all  the  strength 
of  a  love  which  had  not  been  satisfied.  Her  daugh- 
ter, born  in  the  most  trying  circumstances,  had  never 
received  the  one-hundredth  part  of  the  care  which  she 
had  spent  on  Serozha.  Moreover,  the  little  girl,  as  yet, 
only  represented  hopes,  while  Serozha  was  almost  a 
man,  and  a  lovely  man !  He  had  already  begun  to 
struggle  with  his  thoughts  and  feelings ;  he  loved  his 
mother,  understood  her,  judged  her  perhaps,  she  thought, 
recalling  her  son's  words  and  looks ;  and  now  she  was 
separated  from  him  forever,  morally  as  well  as  mate- 
rially ;  and  she  saw  no  way  of  remedying  the  situation. 

She  gave  the  little  one  back  to  her  nurse,  and  sent 
them  away,  and  opened  a  locket  containing  Serozha's 
picture  about  the  same  age  as  his  sister ;  then,  remov- 
ing her  hat,  she  took  an  album  in  which  were  photo- 
graphs of  her  son  at  different  periods ;  she  wanted 
to  compare  them,  and  she  began  to  take  them  out  of 
the  album.  She  took  them  all  out.  One  was  left,  the 
last,  the  best  photograph  of  him.  It  represented  Se- 
rozha astride  a  chair,  in  a  white  frock,  a  smile  on  his 
lips  and  a  shadow  in  his  eyes  ;  it  was  his  most  character- 
istic, his  best  expression.  Holding  the  album  in  her  lit- 
tle deft  hands,  which  to-day  moved  with  extraordinary 
nervousness,  she  tried  with  her  slender  white  fingers  to 
take  it  from  its  place  ;  but  the  photograph  stuck,  and  she 
could  not  get  at  it.  There  was  no  paper-cutter  on  the 
table,  and  she  took  up  another  photograph  at  random 
to  push  out  the  card  from  its  place. 

It  was  a  picture  of  Vronsky,  taken  in  Rome,  with 
long  hair  and  a  round  felt  hat. 

"  Ah !  there  he  is,"  she  said  to  herself,  and  as  she 
looked  at  him  she  suddenly  remembered  that  he  was 
the  cause  of  all  her  present  suffering. 


ANNA   KARENINA  45 

Not  once  had  she  thought  of  him  all  the  morning  ; 
but  now  suddenly  the  sight  of  this  manly  and  noble 
face,  which  she  knew  and  loved  so  well,  brought  a  flood 
of  affection  to  her  heart. 

"  Yes  !  Where  is  he  ?  Why  does  he  leave  me  alone, 
a  prey  to  my  grief?"  she  asked  with  bitter  reproach, 
forgetting  that  she  herself  had  carefully  concealed  from 
him  everything  concerning  her  son.  She  sent  a  mes- 
sage to  him,  asking  him  to  come  to  her  immediately, 
and  waited,  with  heavy  heart,  thinking  over  the  words 
with  which  she  should  tell  him  all,  and  the  loving  ex- 
pressions with  which  he  would  try  to  console  her.  The 
servant  returned  to  say  that  Vronsky  had  a  visitor,  but 
that  he  would  come  very  soon  ;  and  would  like  to  know 
if  she  could  receive  him  with  Prince  Yashvin,  who  had 
just  arrived  in  Petersburg. 

"  He  will  not  come  alone,  and  he  has  not  seen  me 
since  yesterday  at  dinner,"  she  thought ;  "  and  he  does 
not  come  so  that  I  can  speak  with  him,  but  he  comes 
with  Yashvin." 

And  suddenly  a  cruel  thought  crossed  her  mind  : 
what  if  he  no  longer  loved  her  ? 

And  as  she  went  over  in  her  mind  all  the  incidents  of 
the  past  few  days,  she  found  her  terrible  thought  con- 
firmed by  them.  The  day  before  he  had  not  dined  with 
her ;  they  did  not  have  the  same  room,  now  that  they 
were  in  Petersburg ;  and  now  he  was  bringing  some  one 
with  him  as  if  to  avoid  being  alone  with  her. 

"  But  he  must  tell  me  this.  I  must  know  it.  If  it  is 
true,  I  know  what  I  must  do,"  she  said  to  herself,  wholly 
unable  to  imagine  what  would  happen  if  Vronsky's  in- 
difference should  prove  to  be  true.  She  began  to  feel 
that  he  did  not  love  her  any  more  ;  she  imagined  herself 
reduced  to  despair,  and  in  consequence  her  feelings 
made  her  overexcited  ;  she  rang  for  her  maid,  went  into 
her  dressing-room,  and  took  extreme  pains  with  her 
dress  as  if  the  sight  of  her  toilet  and  becoming  way  of 
dressing  her  hair  would  bring  back  Vronsky's  love,  if  he 
had  grown  indifferent. 

The  bell  rang  before  she  was  ready. 


46  ANNA    KARENINA 

When  she  returned  to  the  drawing-room,  not  Vronsky, 
but  Yashvin,  looked  at  her.  Vronsky  was  looking  at 
Serozha's  picture,  which  she  had  left  lying  on  the  table, 
and  he  did  not  hurry  to  greet  her. 

"  We  are  old  acquaintances,"  she  said  to  him,  going 
toward  him  and  placing  her  small  hand  in  Yashvin's 
enormous  hand.  He  was  all  confusion,  and  this  seemed 
odd,  in  a  man  of  his  gigantic  form  and  decided  fea- 
tures. 

"  We  met  last  year  at  the  races.  —  Give  them  to  me," 
she  said,  snatching  her  son's  photographs  from  Vronsky, 
who  was  looking  at  them,  while  her  eyes  blazed  at  him 
significantly.  "  Were  the  races  successful  this  year  .'' 
We  saw  the  races  at  Rome  on  the  Corso.  But  I  believe 
you  do  not  like  life  abroad,"  she  added,  with  a  fascinat- 
ing smile.  "  I  know  you,  and,  although  we  seldom 
meet,  I  know  your  tastes." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  that,  because  my  tastes  are  gen- 
erally bad,"  said  Yashvin,  biting  the  left  side  of  his 
mustache. 

After  they  had  talked  some  little  time,  Yashvin,  see- 
ing Vronsky  look  at  his  watch,  asked  Anna  if  she  ex- 
pected to  be  in  Petersburg  long.  Then,  bending  down 
his  huge  back,  he  picked  up  his  kepi. 

"  Probably  not  long,"  she  replied,  in  some  confusion, 
and  looked  at  Vronsky. 

"Then  we  shall  not  meet  again  }  "  said  Yashvin,  get- 
ting up  and  addressing  Vronsky.  "  Where  are  you  go- 
ing to  dine  ? " 

"  Come  and  dine  with  me,"  said  Anna,  with  decision  ; 
and,  vexed  because  she  could  not  conceal  her  confusion 
whenever  her  false  situation  became  evident  before  a 
stranger,  she  blushed.  "  The  table  here  is  not  good,  but 
you  will  at  least  see  each  other.  Of  all  Aleksei's  mess- 
mates, you  are  his  favorite." 

"  I  should  be  delighted,"  replied  Yashvin,  with  a 
smile  which  proved  to  Vronsky  that  he  was  very  much 
pleased  with  Anna.  Yashvin  took  leave  of  them  and 
went  away,  while  Vronsky  lingered  behind. 

"Are  you  going,  too  ?  "  she  asked  him. 


ANNA    KARENINA  47 

"  I  am  already  late.  Go  ahead,  I  will  overtake  you," 
ne  shouted  to  Yashvin. 

She  took  his  hand,  and,  without  removing  her  eyes 
from  him,  tried  to  find  something  to  say  to  detain 
him. 

"Wait ;  I  want  to  ask  you  something,"  and  she  pressed 
Vronsky's  hand  against  her  cheek.  "  Well !  did  I  do 
wrong  to  invite  him  to  dinner  ? " 

"You  did  quite  right,*'  he  replied,  with  a  calm  smile 
which  showed  his  solid  teeth,  and  he  kissed  her  hand. 

"  Aleksei",  do  you  feel  changed  toward  me  .'' "  she 
asked,  pressing  his  hand  between  her  own.  "  Aleksei', 
I  am  tired  of  staying  here.     When  shall  we  go  away  ? " 

"Soon,  very  soon.  You  can't  imagine  how  life  here 
weighs  upon  me  too,"  and  he  drew  away  his  hand. 

"  Well !  go,  go  away !  "  she  said,  in  an  injured  tone, 
and  quickly  left  him. 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

When  Vronsky  came  back  to  the  hotel,  Anna  was 
not  there.  They  told  him  that  she  had  gone  out  with  a 
lady  who  came  to  call  on  her.  The  fact  that  she  had 
gone  out  without  having  left  word  \yhere,  a  thing  which 
she  had  not  done  before,  the  fact  that '  she  had  also 
gone  somewhere  in  the  morning  without  telling  him,  — 
all  this  coupled  with  the  strange  expression  of  excitement 
on  her  face  that  morning,  the  manner  and  the  harsh 
tone  with  which  she  had  snatched  away  her  son's  pho- 
tographs from  him  before  Yashvin,  made  Vronsky  won- 
der. He  made  up  his  mind  to  ask  for  an  explanation, 
and  waited  in  the  drawing-room  for  her  return.  Anna 
did  not  come  back  alone  ;  she  brought  with  her  an  old 
maiden  aunt,  the  Princess  Oblonskaya.  She  was  the 
lady  who  had  come  in  the  morning,  and  with  whom  she 
had  been  shopping. 

Anna  pretended  not  to  notice  the  expression  of 
Vronsky's  face  and  his  uneasy,  questioning  manner,  and 
began  to  talk  gayly  about  the  purchases  she  had  made 


48  ANNA    KARENINA 

in  the  morning.  He  saw  that  something  unusual  was 
the  matter :  in  her  shining  eyes,  as  they  flashed  their 
Hghtning  on  him,  there  was  evidence  of  mental  strain  ; 
and  in  her  speech  and  movements  there  was  that  ner- 
vous alertness  and  grace  which  in  the  first  epoch  of 
their  relationship  had  so  captivated  him,  but  now  they 
troubled  and  alarmed  him. 

The  table  was  laid  for  four,  and,  just  as  they  were 
going  to  sit  down  in  the  little  dining-room,  Tuskievitch 
came  from  the  Princess  Betsy  with  a  message  for  Anna. 

The  Princess  Betsy  sent  her  excuses  for  not  coming 
in  person  to  say  good-by  to  her.  She  was  not  well, 
and  asked  Anna  to  come  to  see  her  between  half-past 
seven  and  nine  o'clock. 

Vronsky  looked  at  Anna  as  if  he  would  draw  her 
attention  to  the  fact  that  in  naming  a  time  she  had  taken 
precautions  against  her  meeting  any  one ;  but  Anna  did 
not  seem  to  pay  any  attention  to  it. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  but  just  between  half -past  seven 
and  nine  I  shall  not  be  at  liberty,"  she  said,  with  a 
slight  smile. 

"The  princess  will  be  very  much  disappointed." 

"So  shall  I." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  going  to  hear  Patti,"  said  Tush- 
kievitch. 

"  Patti .-"  You  give  me  an  idea.  I  would  go  certainly, 
if  I  could  get  a  loge.'' 

"  I  can  get  you  one,"  suggested  Tushkievitch. 

"  I  should  be  very  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Anna ; 
"  but  won't  you  dine  with  us  .<•  " 

Vronsky  shrugged  his  shoulders  slightly ;  he  did  not 
know  what  to  make  of  Anna.  Why  had  she  brought 
home  the  old  princess,  why  was  she  keeping  Tushkie- 
vitch to  dinner,  and,  above  all,  why  did  she  let  him  get 
her  a  box }  Was  it  to  be  thought  of  for  a  moment  that 
she,  in  her  position,  could  go  to  the  opera  on  a  Patti 
subscription  night,  when  she  would  meet  all  her  ac- 
quaintances there }  He  looked  at  her  seriously,  but 
she  responded  with  a  half-despairing,  half-mocking 
look,  the  meaning  of  which  he  could  not  understand. 


ANNA    KARENINA  49 

All  through  dinner  Anna  was  aggressively  lively,  and 
seemed  to  flirt  both  with  Tushkievitch  and  with  Yashvin. 
When  they  rose  from  the  table,  Tushkievitch  went  to 
secure  a  box,  but  Yashvin  was  going  to  smoke  and 
Vronsky  took  him  down  to  his  own  room  ;  after  some 
time  Vronsky  came  up-stairs  again.  Anna  was  already 
dressed  in  a  light  silk  gown  bought  in  Paris.  It  was 
trimmed  with  velvet  and  had  an  open  front.  On  her 
head  she  wore  costly  white  lace,  which  set  off  to  advan- 
tage the  striking  beauty  of  her  face. 

"  Are  you  really  going  to  the  theater .'' "  he  asked, 
trying  to  avoid  looking  at  her. 

"Why  do  you  ask  me  in  such  a  terrified  way .-' "  she 
rephed,  again  hurt  because  he  did  not  look  at  her. 
"  Why  should  n't  I  go  .''  " 

She  did  not  seem  to  understand  the  meaning  of  his 
words. 

"  Of  course,  there  is  no  reason  for  it,"  said  he,  frowning. 

"That  is  exactly  what  I  say,"  she  replied,  not  wish- 
ing to  see  the  sarcasm  of  his  remark,  and  calmly  putting 
on  a  long,  perfumed  glove. 

"  Anna,  for  heaven's  sake,  what  is  the  matter  with 
you  .''  "  he  said  to  her,  trying  to  bring  her  to  her  senses, 
as  her  husband  had  more  than  once  done. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"You  know  very  well  that  you  can't  go  there."' 

"Why  not.''  I  am  not  going  alone;  the  Princess 
Varvara  has  gone  to  dress ;   she  is  going  with  me." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  a  look  of  perplexity 
and  despair. 

"  But  don't  you  know.?  "  ....  he  began. 

"  No,  I  don't  want  to  know  !  "  she  almost  shrieked. 
"  I  don't  want  to  know.  Am  I  sorry  for  anything  I 
have  done .''  No,  no,  no,  indeed ;  if  it  were  to  begin 
over  again,  I  would  begin  over  again.  There  is  only 
one  thing  of  any  consequence  to  us  —  to  you  and  me, 
and  that  is  do  we  love  each  other }  Everything  else 
is  of  no  account.  Why  do  we  live  separate  here,  and 
not  see  each  other  .-*  Why  can't  I  go  where  I  please  ? 
I  love  you,  and  everything  is  right,  if  your  feelings  have 

VOL.  III.  — 4 


50 


ANNA    KARENINA 


not  changed  toward  me,"  she  said  in  Russian,  looking 
at  him  with  a  pecuHar  gleam  in  her  eyes  which  he 
could  not  understand  ;   "  why  don't  you  look  at  me  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her,  he  saw  all  her  beauty,  of  her  face, 
of  the  toilet,  which  was  so  becoming  to  her ;  but  now 
this  beauty  and  this  elegance  were  precisely  what  irri- 
tated him. 

"  You  know  very  well  that  my  feelings  cannot  change ; 
but  I  beg  you  not  to  go  out,  I  beseech  you,"  he  said 
again  in  French,  with  a  prayer  in  his  voice,  but  with  a 
cold  look  in  his  eyes. 

She  did  not  hear  his  words,  but  noticed  only  the 
coldness  of  his  look,  and  replied  with  an  injured  air:  — 

"  And  I  for  my  part  beg  you  to  explain  why  I  should 
not  go." 

"  Because  it  may  cause  you  ....  " 

He  grew  confused. 

"  I  don't  understand  at  all :  Yashvin  7iest  pas  com- 
' promettant,  and  the  Princess  Varvara  is  no  worse  than 
anybody  else.     Ah  !  here  she  is  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Vronsky  felt  toward 
Anna  a  sensation  of  vexation  bordering  on  anger,  on 
account  of  her  intentional  misunderstanding  of  her  posi- 
tion. This  feeling  was  intensified  by  the  fact  that  he 
could  not  explain  the  reason  of  his  vexation.  If  he  had 
frankly  said  what  was  in  his  mind,  he  would  have 
said :  — 

"  To  appear  at  the  opera  in  such  a  toilet,  with  a  noto- 
rious person  like  the  princess,  is  equivalent  to  throwing 
down  the  gauntlet  to  public  opinion ;  to  confessing  your- 
self a  lost  woman,  and,  consequently,  renouncing  all 
hope  of  ever  going  into  society  again." 

He  could  not  say  that  to  her. 

"  Why  did  she  not  understand  it }  What  has  hap- 
pened to  her.'' "  he  asked  himself. 

He   felt  at  one  and  the  same  time  a   lessened   es- 


ANNA    KARENINA 


51 


teem  for  Anna's  character,  and  a  greater  sense  of  her 
heauty. 

With  a  dark  frown  he  went  back  to  his  room,  and  sat 
down  with  Yashvin,  who,  with  his  long  legs  stretched 
oat  on  a  chair,  was  drinking  cognac  and  seltzer  water. 
Vronsky  ordered  the  same  for  himself. 

"You  spoke  of  Lanskof's  Moguchi.^  He  is  a  fine 
horse,  and  I  advise  you  to  buy  him,"  began  Yashvin, 
glancing  at  his  comrade's  solemn  face.  "  His  crupper  is 
tapering,  but  what  legs  !  and  what  a  head !  You  could  n't 
do  better." 

"  I  think  I  shall  take  him,"  replied  Vronsky. 

The  talk  about  horses  occupied  him,  but  not  for  a 
moment  was  the  thought  of  Anna  absent  from  his  mind, 
and  he  involuntarily  listened  for  the  sound  of  steps  in 
the  corridor,  and  kept  looking  at  the  clock  on  the  mantel. 

"  Anna  Arkadyevna  left  word  that  she  has  gone  to 
the  theater,"  a  servant  announced. 

Yashvin  poured  out  another  little  glass  of  cognac  and 
.seltzer,  drank  it,  and  rose,  buttoning  up  his  coat. 

"Well,  shall  we  go?"  said  he,  half  smiling  beneath 
his  long  mustaches,  and  showing  that  he  understood 
the  cause  of  Vronsky's  vexation,  but  did  not  attach  much 
importance  to  it. 

"  I  am  not  going,"  replied  Vronsky,  gloomily. 

"  I  promised,  so  I  must  go  ;  well  —  da  svidanya  !  If 
you  should  change  your  mind,  take  Krasinsky's  seat, 
which  will  be  unoccupied,"  he  added,  as  he  went  out. 

"  No  ;  I  have  some  work  to  do." 

"  A  man  has  trials  with  a  wife,  but  with  a  iiot-zvife  it 
is  even  worse,"  thought  Yashvin  as  he  left  the  hotel. 

When  Vronsky  was  alone,  he  rose,  and  began  to  walk 
up  and  down  the  room. 

"Yes!  To-night.!"  The  fourth  subscription  night.... 
My  brother  Yegor  will  be  there  with  his  wife,  and  with 
my  mother,  probably ;  in  fact,  all  Petersburg  will  be 
there  !  Now  she  is  going  in,  and  is  taking  off  her  shuba, 
and  there  she  is  in  the  light !  Tushkievitch,  Yashvin, 
the  Princess  Varvara ! "  he  pictured  the  scene  to  himself. 
"What  am  I  to  do  .'*  am  I  afraid }  or  have  I  aiven  Tush' 


52 


ANNA   KARENINA 


kievitch  the  right  to  protect  her  ?  However  you  may 
look  at  it,  it  is  stupid,  it  is  stupid  ! ....  Why  should  she 
place  me  in  this  position.''"  he  said,  with  a  gesture  of 
despair. 

This  movement  jostled  the  stand  on  which  stood  the 
seltzer  water  and  the  decanter  with  cognac,  and  nearly 
knocked  it  over;  in  trying  to  rescue  it,  he  upset  it 
entirely ;    he  rang,  and  gave  a  kick  to  the  table. 

"  If  you  want  to  remain  in  my  service,"  said  he  to  his 
valet  who  appeared,  "  then  tend  to  your  business.  Don't 
let  this  happen  again  ;  why  did  n't  you  take  these  things 
away  .-* ' ' 

The  valet,  knowing  his  innocence,  wished  to  justify 
himself  :  but  by  one  glance  at  his  barin's  face  he  realized 
that  it  was  best  for  him  to  be  silent ;  and,  making  a 
hasty  excuse,  he  got  down  on  the  floor  to  pick  up  the 
broken  glasses  and  water-bottles. 

"  That  is  not  your  business  ;  call  a  waiter,  and  get  my 
dress-coat." 

Vronsky  entered  the  theater  at  half-past  nine.  The 
performance  was  in  full  swing.  The  Kapelldiener — a 
little  old  man  —  took  his  fur-lined  shuba,  and,  recogniz- 
ing him,  called  him  "  your  excellency,"  and  assured 
him  that  he  needed  not  to  take  a  number,  but  that  all 
he  had  to  do  was  to  call  for  Feodor. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  lighted  lobby  except  the  Ka- 
pelldiener and  two  valets  with  fur  garments  on  their 
arms,  listening  at  the  door.  The  sound  of  the  orchestra 
playing  staccato  could  be  heard,  carefully  accompanying 
a  woman's  voice  which  was  admirably  rendering  a  musi- 
cal phrase.  The  door  opened  and  another  Kapelldiener 
came  tiptoeing  out,  and  the  phrase,  as  it  was  ending, 
came  distinctly  to  Vronsky's  ear.  But  instantly  the 
door  closed  again  and  he  could  not  hear  the  ending  of 
the  phrase  or  the  cadenza ;  but  from  the  applause  that 
followed  he  knew  that  the  aria  was  finished. 

The  plaudits  still  continued  as  he  went  into  the  audi- 
torium, brilliantly  lighted  with  chandeliers  and  bronze 
gas-fixtures.       On    the  stage,    the    prima    donna,  with 


ANNA    KARENINA  S3 

bare  shoulders  and  glittering  with  diamonds,  was  bow- 
ing and  smiling,  and,  with  the  assistance  of  the  tenor, 
who  gave  her  his  hand,  was  bending  forward  to  receive 
the  bouquets  that  were  thrust  awkwardly  at  her  over  the 
footlights,  and  then  she  went  toward  a  gentleman  whose 
hair,  shining  with  pomade,  was  parted  in  the  middle, 
and  who  reached  out  his  long  arms  to  hand  her  some 
article.  The  whole  audience  —  those  in  the  boxes  and 
those  in  the  parquet — was  wildly  excited  and  leaning 
forward,  shouting  and  clapping.  The  Kapellmeister, 
on  his  elevated  stand,  helped  pass  it  along,  and  straight- 
ened his  white  necktie. 

Vronsky  went  down  to  the  middle  of  the  parquet,  and, 
pausing,  looked  through  the  audience.  He  paid  less 
attention  than  ever  to  the  familiar  stage-setting,  to  the 
stage,  to  the  noise,  to  all  that  well-known,  variegated,  and 
uninteresting  throng  of  spectators  that  was  packed  and 
crowded  into  the  theater. 

There  were  the  same  ladies  in  the  boxes,  with  the 
same  officers  behind  them,  the  same  gayly  dressed 
women,  the  same  uniforms,  and  the  same  dress-coats ; 
in  the  gallery  the  same  disorderly  crowd  ;  and  in  all  this 
closely  packed  house,  in  the  boxes  and  in  the  front  seats, 
were  some  forty  genuine  men  and  women !  And  Vron- 
sky immediately  turned  his  attention  to  this  oasis,  and 
occupied  himself  with  it  exclusively. 

The  act  was  just  over  as  Vronsky  went  toward  the 
first  row  of  seats,  and  stopped  near  the  railing  beside 
Serpukhovskof,  who,  bending  his  knee  and  rapping 
against  the  rail  with  his  heel,  had  seen  him  at  a  distance, 
and  beckoned  to  him  with  a  smile. 

Vronsky  had  not  yet  seen  Anna,  and  purposely  re- 
frained from  looking  for  her ;  but  from  the  direction  in 
which  people  were  gazing,  he  knew  where  she  was. 
He  glanced  round  furtively  but  did  not  search  for  her. 
Expecting  something  even  worse,  he  looked  to  see  if 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  were  there ;  to  his  joy  the 
latter  was  not  at  the  theater  that  evening. 

"How  unmartial  you  look,"  said  Serpukhovskoi";  "one 
would  take  you  for  a  diplomat  —  an  artist." 


54 


ANNA    KARENINA 


"  Yes  ;  on  my  return  home  I  put  on  citizen's  dress," 
replied  Vronsky,  slowly  taking  out  his  opera-glasses. 

"  In  this  respect,  I  confess  I  envy  you.  When  I  re- 
turn from  abroad  and  put  these  on,"  said  he,  touching 
his  epaulets,  "  I  mourn  for  my  liberty." 

SerpukhovskoT  had  long  since  given  up  trying  to  push 
Vronsky  along  in  his  military  career,  but  he  continued 
to  have  a  warm  affection  for  him,  and  he  now  seemed 
especially  friendly  toward  him. 

"  It  is  too  bad  that  you  lost  the  first  act." 

Vronsky,  while  listening  with  one  ear,  examined  the 
boxes  ancl  the  first  tier  of  seats,  with  his  opera-glass  ; 
suddenly  Anna's  head  came  into  view,  proud,  and  strik- 
ingly beautiful,  in  its  frame  of  laces,  next  a  lady  in  a  tur- 
ban, and  a  bald-headed  old  man,  who  blinked  as  he  gazed 
through  his  opera-glass.  Anna  was  in  the  fifth  box,  not 
more  than  twenty  steps  from  him  ;  she  was  seated  in  the 
front  of  the  box,  turning  slightly  away,  and  was  talking 
with  Yashvin.  The  pose  of  her  head,  her  neck,  her 
beautiful,  broad  shoulders,  the  radiance  of  her  eyes  and 
face, —  all  reminded  him  of  her  as  she  had  looked  that 
evening  at  the  ball  in  Moscow. 

But  her  beauty  inspired  him  with  entirely  different 
sentiment ;  there  was  no  longer  anything  mysterious  in 
his  feeling  for  her.  And  so,  although  her  beauty  was 
more  extraordinary  than  ever,  and  fascinated  him,  at  the 
same  time  it  was  now  offensive  to  him.  She  did  not 
look  in  his  direction,  but  he  felt  that  she  had  already 
seen  him. 

When  Vronsky  again  directed  his  opera-glass  toward 
the  box,  he  saw  the  Princess  Varvara,  very  red  in  the 
face,  was  laughing  unnaturally,  and  kept  looking  at  the 
next  box ;  Anna,  striking  her  closed  fan  on  the  red  vel- 
vet, was  looking  away,  evidently  not  seeing  and  not  in- 
tending to  see  what  was  going  on  in  the  next  box. 
Yashvin's  face  wore  the  same  expression  as  when  he  lost 
at  cards ;  he  drew  his  left  mustache  more  and  more  into 
his  mouth,  frowned,  and  was  looking  out  of  the  corner 
of  his  eye  into  the  same  box. 

In  this  box  were  the  Kartasof  s.     Vronsky  knew  them, 


ANNA    KARENINA  55 

and  he  knew  that  Anna,  too,  had  been  on  friendly  terms 
with  them ;  Madame  Kartasof,  a  Httle,  thin  woman,  was 
standing  with  her  back  to  Anna,  and  putting  on  an  opera- 
cloak,  which  her  husband  handed  to  her ;  her  face  was 
pale  and  angry ;  and  she  was  saying  something  with 
great  excitement.  Kartasof,  a  stout,  bald-headed  man, 
kept  looking  at  i\nna,  and  trying  to  calm  his  wife. 

When  Madame  Kartasof  left  the  box,  her  husband 
lingered,  trying  to  catch  Anna's  eye,  and  evidently  de- 
sirous of  bowing  to  her ;  but  apparently  she  purposely 
avoided  noticing  him,  and  leaned  back  to  speak  to  Yash- 
vin,  whose  shaven  head  was  bent  toward  her.  Kartasof 
went  out  without  having  bowed,  and  the  box  was  left, 
empty. 

Vronsky  did  not  understand  what  had  just  passed  be- 
tween the  Kartasof s  and  Anna,  but  he  felt  perfectly  sure 
that  something  mortifying  had  happened  to  Anna ;  by 
the  expression  of  her  face  he  saw  that  she  was  summon- 
ing all  her  strength  to  keep  up  her  part  to  the  end,  and 
to  appear  perfectly  calm.  And  this  semblance  of  ex- 
ternal calm  was  put  on  to  perfection.  Those  who  knew 
nothing  of  her  history  and  her  circle,  who  had  not  heard 
her  old  friends'  expressions  of  indignation  at  her  appear- 
ing in  this  way,  in  all  the  splendor  of  her  beauty  and  of 
her  toilet,  would  have  admired  her  serenity  and  beauty, 
and  never  have  suspected  that  this  woman  was  enduring 
the  same  feelings  of  shame  as  a  criminal  experiences  at 
the  pillory. 

Knowing  that  something  had  taken  place,  but  not 
knowing  exactly  what,  Vronsky  felt  a  sense  of  deep 
anxiety,  and,  hoping  to  learn  something  about  the 
matter,  went  to  his  brother's  box.  He  intentionally 
crossed  the  parquet,  on  the  side  opposite  to  Anna's  box, 
and,  as  he  went,  ran  across  his  former  regimental  com- 
mander, who  was  talking  with  two  of  his  acquaintances. 
Vronsky  heard  the  Karenins'  name  spoken,  and  noticed 
that  the  regimental  commander  hastened  to  call  to  him 
aloud,  while  he  gave  his  friends  a  significant  look. 

"  Ah !  Vronsky.  When  shall  we  see  you  again  in 
the  regiment.''    We  shan't  let  you  off  without  a  banquet. 


56  ANNA   KARENINA 

You  are  ours,  every  inch  of  you,"  said  the  regimental 
commander. 

"  I  shan't  have  the  time  now.  I  am  awfully  sorry, 
another  time,"  replied  Vronsky,  going  rapidly  up  the 
steps  which  led  to  his  brother's  box. 

The  old  countess,  his  mother,  with  her  little  steel- 
colored  curls,  was  in  the  box.  Varia  and  the  young 
Princess  Sorokin  were  walking  together  in  the  lobby 
of  the  belle-etage.  As  soon  as  she  saw  her  brother-in- 
law,  Varia  went  back  to  her  mother  with  her  companion, 
and  then,  taking  Vronsky's  arm,  immediately  began  to 
speak  with  him  about  the  subject  which  concerned  him. 
She  showed  more  excitement  than  he  had  ever  seen  in 
her. 

"  I  think  it  is  dastardly  and  vile ;  Madame  Kartasof 
had  no  right  to  do  so.     Madame  Karenin  ....  "  she  began. 

''  But  what  is  the  matter  ?  I  don't  know  what  you 
mean." 

"  What  ?  you  have  n't  heard  anything  about  it .-'  " 

"  You  can  well  understand  that  I  should  be.  the  last 
person  to  hear  anything  about  it." 

"Is  there  a  more  wicked  creature  in  the  world  than 
this  Madame  Kartasof  !  " 

"  But  what  did  she  do  ?  " 

"  My  husband  told  me  about  it ....  she  insulted  Madame 
Karenin.  Her  husband  began  to  speak  across  from  his 
box  to  Madame  Karenin,  and  Madame  Kartasof  made  a 
scene  about  it.  They  say  she  said  something  very  offen- 
sive in  a  loud  voice,  and  went  out." 

"  Count,  your  niaman  is  calling  you,"  said  the  young 
Princess  Sorokin,  opening  the  door  of  the  box. 

"I  have  been  waiting  for  you  all  this  time,"  said  his 
mother  to  him,  with  a  sarcastic  smile ;  "  we  never  see 
anything  of  you  now." 

The  son  saw  that  she  could  not  conceal  a  smile  of 
satisfaction. 

"  Good  evening,  fnaman.  I  was  coming  to  see  you," 
he  replied  coolly. 

"  What,  I  hope  you  are  not  going  /aire  la  coitr  a 
Madame  Kar^ninc,"  she  added,  when  the  young  Prin 


ANNA   KARENINA  57 

cess  Sorokina  was  out  of  hearing  ;  "  elle  fait  sensation. 
On  oublic  la  Patti ponr  elle.'' 

''  Maynan,  I  have  begged  you  not  to  speak  to  me 
about  her,"  he  replied  gloomily. 

"  I  only  say  what  everybody  is  saying." 

Vronsky  did  not  reply ;  and,  after  exchanging  a  few 
words  with  the  young  princess,  he  went  out.  He  met 
his  brother  at  the  door. 

"Ah,  Aleksei!"  said  his  brother,  "how  abominable! 

She  is  a  fool,  nothing  more I  was  just  wishing  to  go 

to  see  Madame  Karenin.     Let  us  go  together." 

Vronsky  did  not  heed  him  ;  he  ran  hastily  down  the 
steps,  feeling  that  he  ought  to  do  something,  but  knew, 
not  what. 

He  was  stirred  with  anger,  because  Anna  had  placed 
them  both  in  such  a  false  position,  and  at  the  same  time 
he  felt  deep  pity  for  her  suffering. 

He  went  down  into  the  parquet,  and  thence  directly 
to  Anna's  loge.  Stremof  was  leaning  on  the  box,  talking 
with  her. 

"  There  are  no  more  tenors,"  he  said  ;  "  le  vioule  en  est 
brise  —  the  mould  is  broken  —  from  which  they  came." 

Vronsky  bowed  to  her  and  stopped,  exchanging  greet- 
ings with  Stremof. 

"  You  came  late,  it  seems  to  me,  and  you  lost  the  best 
aria,"  said  Anna  to  Vronsky,  looking  at  him  scornfully, 
as  it  seemed  to  him. 

"  I  am  not  a  very  good  judge,"  he  replied,  looking  at 
her  severely. 

"  Like  Prince  Yashvin,"  she  said,  smiling,  "who  thinks 
Patti  sings  too  loud. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  taking  the  program  that  Vron- 
sky passed  to  her,  in  her  little  hand,  incased  in  a  long 
glove ;  and  at  the  same  moment  her  beautiful  face 
quivered ;  she  rose  and  went  to  the  back  of  the  box. 

The  last  act  had  hardly  begun,  when  Vronsky,  seeing 
Anna's  box  empty,  left  the  parquet,  though  he  was 
hissed  for  disturbing  the  quiet  of  the  theater  while  a 
cavatina  was  going  on,  and  went  back  to  the  hotel. 

Anna  was  already  in  her  room  ;  when  Vronsky  went  to 


58  ANNA    KARENINA 

her  she  was  sitting  in  the  same  toilet  which  she  had  worn 
at  the  theater.  She  was  sitting  in  the  first  chair  she  had 
come  to,  near  the  wall,  looking  straight  before  her. 
When  she  saw  Vronsky  enter,  she  glanced  at  him  with- 
out moving. 

"  Anna,"  he  said. 

"  You,  you  are  to  blame  for  it  all !  "  she  exclaimed, 
rising,  with  tears  of  anger,  and  despair  in  her  voice. 

"  I  begged  you,  I  implored  you,  not  to  go ;  I  knew 
that  it  would  be  unpleasant  to  you."  .... 

"  Unpleasant !  "  she  exclaimed  ;  "  it  was  horrible  !  I 
shall  not  forget  it  as  long  as  I  live.  She  said  that  it 
was  a  disgrace  to  sit  near  me." 

"  She  was  a  stupid  woman  to  say  such  a  thing  ;  but 
why  did  you  run  the  risk  of  hearing  it ;  why  did  you 
expose  yourself .-'".... 

"  I  hate  your  calm  way.  You  should  never  have 
driven  me  to  this  ;  if  you  loved  me  ....  " 

"  Anna  !  what  has  my  love  to  do  with  this  .-'  "  .... 

"  Yes,  if  you  loved  me  as  I  love  you,  if  you  suffered 
as  I ....  "  she  said,  looking  at  him  with  an  expression  of 
terror. 

He  felt  sorry  for  her,  and  yet  he  was  vexed  with  her. 
He  protested  his  love,  because  he  saw  that  it  was  the 
only  way  to  calm  her ;  and  he  refrained  from  reproach- 
ing her,  but  in  his  heart  he  reproached  her. 

And  his  expressions  of  love,  which  seemed  to  him  so 
banal  that  he  was  ashamed  of  himself  for  repeating  them, 
she  drank  in,  and  gradually  became  herself  again. 

Two  days  later  they  left  for  the  country,  completely 
reconciled. 


PART   SIXTH 


CHAPTER   I 

DARYA  ALEKSANDROVNA,  with  her  children, 
was  spending  the  summer  at  Pokrovskoye,  at  the 
house  of  her  sister,  Kitty  Levin.  The  house  on  her  own 
estate,  at'Yergushovo,  was  all  in  ruins,  and  Levin  and 
his  wife  had  urged  her  to  come  to  them  for  the  summer. 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch  heartily  approved  of  this  arrange- 
ment. He  assured  them  that  he  very  much  regretted 
that  his  duties  would  prevent  him  from  spending  the 
summer  with  his  family  in  the  country,  for  that  would 
be  the  greatest  possible  delight  for  him,  and  if  he  stayed 
in  Moscow  he  could  occasionally  run  down  for  a  day  or 
two  at  a  time. 

Besides  the  Oblonskys  and  all  their  children,  the 
Levins  had  with  them  the  old  princess,  who  considered 
her  presence  near  her  daughter  at  this  particular  time 
indispensable ;  they  had  also  Varenka,  Kitty's  Soden 
friend,  who  was  fulfilling  her  promise  of  making  Kitty  a 
visit  when  she  should  have  been  married.  All  these 
were  Kitty's  relatives  and  friends.  Levin,  though  he 
Hked  them  all,  still  felt  some  regret  for  his  own  people 
and  his  own  ways,  which  were  swallowed  up  as  in  a  flood 
by  the  "  Shcherbatsky  element,"  as  he  called  it.  Of  his 
own  relatives  that  summer  Sergyei"  Ivanovitch  was  the 
only  representative,  and  he  was  not  a  Levin  but  a  Koz- 
nuishef.  So  that  the  Levin  spirit  was  at  a  great  dis- 
count. There  were  so  many  persons  in  the  long-deserted 
house  that  almost  all  the  rooms  were  occupied,  and 
almost  every  day  the  old  princess,  as  she  sat  down  at 
table,  would  count  the  guests  and  send  off  to  the  special 
table  the  grandson  or  granddaughter  who  made  the  num- 
ber thirteen.     And  Kitty,  diligently  occupied  with  her 

59 


6o  ANNA    KARENINA 

housekeeping,  found  it  no  small  burden  to  provide  tur^ 
keys,  chickens,  and  ducks  for  the  satisfaction  of  the 
various  appetites  of  young  and  old,  made  keen  by  the 
country  air. 

The  whole  family  were  at  table.  Dolly's  children 
were  planning  to  go  out  and  hunt  for  mushrooms  with  the 
governess  and  Varenka,  when,  to  the  great  astonishment 
of  all,  Sergyei  Ivanovitch,  who  enjoyed  among  all  the 
guests  a  great  reputation,  amounting  almost  to  rever- 
ence, on  account  of  his  wit  and  learning,  evinced  a  desire 
to  join  the  expedition. 

"Allow  me  to  go  with  you,"  said  he,  addressing 
Varenka.  "  I  am  very  fond  of  getting  mushrooms ;  I 
think  it  is  a  very  admirable  occupation." 

"Why,  certainly,  we  shall  be  very  glad...."  she 
answered,  blushing. 

Kitty  exchanged  looks  with  Dolly.  The  proposition 
of  the  learned  and  intellectual  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  to  go 
with  Varenka  after  mushrooms  confirmed  an  idea  which 
had  been  engaging  Kitty  for  some  time. 

She  hastened  to  say  something  to  her  mother  so  that 
their  looks  might  not  be  observed. 

After  dinner  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  was  sitting  at  the 
drawing-room  window  with  his  cup  of  coffee,  still  talk- 
ing with  his  brother  on  some  topic  which  they  were  dis- 
cussing, but  he  kept  his  eyes  on  the  door  through  which 
the  children  would  have  to  pass  when  they  should  start 
after  the  mushrooms.  Levin  was  sitting  at  the  window 
near  his  brother.  Kitty  was  standing  near  her  husband, 
evidently  expecting  the  end  of  a  conversation  which  did 
not  interest  her,  so  that  she  might  say  something  to  him. 

"  You  have  changed  a  good  deal  since  you  were 
married,  and  for  the  better....  "  said  Sergyei  Ivanovitch, 
smiling  at  Kitty,  and  evidently  not  taking  much  interest 
either  in  the  conversation,  but  at  the  same  time  he  re- 
mained true  to  his  passion  for  defending  the  most 
paradoxical  themes. 

"  Katya,  it  is  not  well  for  you  to  stand,"  said  her 
husband,  moving  up  a  chair  for  her  and  giving  her  a 
siirnificant  look. 


ANNA    KARENINA  6i 

"  Well,  we  will  finish  this  some  other  time,"  said 
Sergyei'  Ivanovitch,  as  he  saw  the  children  come  run- 
ning out. 

In  advance  of  the  rest,  galloping  sidewise  in  her 
tightly  fitting  stockings,  came  Tania,  waving  a  basket 
and  Sergyei  Ivanovitch's  hat. 

Boldly  darting  up  to  him,  and  with  sparkling  eyes,  — 
they  were  just  like  her  father's  handsome  eyes,  —  she 
gave  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  his  hat,  and  made  believe  that 
she  was  going  to  put  it  on  him,  tempering  her  audacity 
with  a  timid  and  affectionate  smile. 

"  Varenka  is  waiting,"  said  Tania,  carefully  putting  his 
hat  on  his  head,  seeing  by  Sergyei  Ivanovitch's  smile 
that  she  might  do  so. 

Varenka  was  standing  at  the  door.  She  had  put  on 
a  yellow  muslin  frock,  and  had  tied  a  white  hat  over  her 
head. 

''  I  am  coming — I  am^coming,  Varvara  Andreyevna!  " 
cried  Sergyei  Ivanovitch,  finishing  his  cup  of  coffee 
and  putting  his  handkerchief  and  cigarette-case  into  his 
pocket. 

"  Is  n't  Varenka  charming  .''  "  asked  Kitty  of  her  hus- 
band, as  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  got  up.  She  said  this  so 
that  he  might  hear,  for  this  was  what  she  especially 
wanted.  "  And  how  pretty  she  is,  royally  pretty.  — 
Varenka,"  cried  Kitty,  "  are  you  going  to  the  woods  by 
the  mill  .-*     We  will  join  you  there." 

"  You  really  forget  your  condition,  Kitty,"  said  the 
old  princess,  warningly,  as  she  came  hastily  to  the  door. 
"You  ought  not  to  shout  so  loud." 

Varenka,  on  hearing  Kitty's  voice  and  the  princess's 
reproof,  came  up  to  them  with  quick,  light  steps.  Her 
quickness  of  motion,  the  bright  color  that  flushed  her 
cheek,  all  proved  that  some  metamorphosis  was  taking 
place  in  her.  Kitty  knew  that  this  was  something  un- 
usual, and  watched  her  attentively.  She  now  called 
Varenka  only  for  the  sake  of  bestowing  on  her  a  silent 
benediction,  in  the  interest  of  an  important  event  which 
she  firmly  believed  would  take  place  that  day  in  the 
woods. 


62  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  Varenka,  I  shall  be  very  glad  if  a  certain  thing 
comes  to  pass,"  she  said  to  her  in  a  whisper,  and  giving 
her  a  kiss. 

"  Are  you  coming  with  us  ?  "  asked  Varenka  of  Levin, 
confused,  and  pretending  that  she  had  not  heard  what 
had  been  said. 

"  Yes,  but  only  as  far  as  the  barns ;  I  shall  have  to 
stop  there." 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  there  }  "  asked  Kitty. 

"  I  have  some  new  carts  to  examine  and  test.  —  And 
where  shall  I  find  you  .''  " 

"On  the  terrace." 


CHAPTER   II 

All  the  women  were  gathered  on  the  terrace.  They 
generally  liked  to  sit  there  after  dinner,  but  to-day  they 
had  a  special  matter  of  interest  before  them.  Besides 
the  making  of  baby-shirts  and  the  knitting  of  bands,  in 
which  all  of  them  were  engaged  at  that  time,  they  were 
engaged  in  superintending  the  cooking  of  some  pre- 
serves after  a  recipe  unknown  to  Agafya  Mikhailovna. 
Kitty  had  brought  with  her  this  new  process,  which  had 
been  in  use  in  her  own  home  and  required  no  water. 
Agafya  Mikhailovna,  who  had  before  been  shown  how 
to  do  it  in  this  way,  considering  that  what  had  always 
been  done  at  the  Levins'  could  not  be  improved  on, 
insisted  on  pouring  water  into  the  berries,  declaring 
it  could  not  be  made  otherwise.  She  had  been  detected 
doing  this,  and  now  the  berries  were  cooking  in  the 
presence  of  them  all,  and  Agafya  Mikhailovna  was  to 
be  brought  to  a  realizing  sense  of  the  fact  that  the 
preserves  could  be  made  without  the  use  of  water. 

Agafya  Mikhailovna,  with  flushed  and  heated  face 
and  disheveled  hair  and  with  her  sleeves  rolled  up  to 
the  elbow,  was  moving  a  porringer  round  and  round 
over  a  portable  stove  and  looking  gloomily  at  it,  wishing 
with  all  her  soul  that  the  berries  would  thicken  and  not 
boil. 


ANNA    KARENINA  63 

The  old  princess,  conscious  that  Agafya  Mikhailovna's 
indignation  must  be  directed  against  her  as  the  chief 
adviser  in  the  concoction  of  the  sweetmeat,  pretended 
that  she  was  busy  with  something  else,  and  was  not 
interested  in  it ;  but  though  she  talked  of  extraneous 
affairs  she  occasionally  glanced  at  the  cooking  out  of 
the  corner  of  her  eyes. 

"  I  always  buy  my  girls'  dresses  at  a  cheap  shop,"  the 
princess  was  saying  in  regard  to  something  they  had 

been    talking   about "  Had  n't    you    better   take    off 

the  scum,  my  dear  ?  "  ^  she  added,  addressing  Agafya 
Mikhailovna.  "  It  is  not  at  all  necessary  for  you  to  do 
it,  and  it  is  hot,"  said  she,  stopping  Kitty. 

"  I  will  do  it,"  said  Kitty,  who  had  got  up  and  was 
carefully  stirring  the  boiling  sugar  with  a  spoon,  oc- 
casionally pouring  out  a  httle  on  a  plate  which  was 
already  covered  with  a  variegated,  yellowish  red  and 
sanguine  scum,  mixed  with  syrup. 

"  How  they  will  like  to  lick  it !  "  she  said  to  herself, 
thinking  of  her  children  and  remembering  how  she 
herself,  when  she  was  a  little  girl,  had  wondered  that 
grown-up  people  did  not  feed  upon  that  best  of  all 
things  —  scum  ! 

"Stiva  says  that  it  is  far  better  to  give  money,"  Dolly 
was  saying  in  regard  to  the  question  of  making  presents, 
which  they  had  been  discussing.     "  But ....  " 

"  How  can  one  give  money .-' "  exclaimed  the  mother 
and  Kitty,  simultaneously.     "They  despise  it." 

"  Well,  for  example,  last  year  I  bought  our  Matriona 
Semyonovna,  not  a  poplin,  but  some  of  that  kind  ....  "  said 
the  princess. 

"  I  remember  she  wore  it  on  your  name-day." 

**  A  lovely  figure  !  So  simple  and  ladylike.  I  should 
have  liked  one  of  it  myself,  if  she  had  not  one.  Like 
the  kind  Varenka  wears.     So  pretty  and  cheap." 

"  Now  I  think  it  is  done,"  said  Dolly,  dropping  the 
syrup  from  the  spoon. 

"  When  it  crystallizes  it  is  done.  Cook  it  a  little 
more,  Agafya  Mikhaflovna." 

^  Calubushka,  little  dove. 


64  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  What  an  absurdity !  "  exclaimed  Agafya  MikhaT- 
lovna.     "  It  would  be  the  same  anyway,"  she  added. 

"  Oh  !  what  a  beauty  he  is  !  Don't  scare  him !  "  sud- 
denly exclaimed  Kitty,  looking  at  a  sparrow  which 
perched  on  the  rail,  and,  turning  the  heart  of  a  berry 
over,  began  to  peck  at  it. 

"Yes,  but  you  ought  to  be  farther  away  from  the 
charcoal,"  said  her  mother. 

''Apropos  de  Varenka,'"  said  Kitty  in  French,  in  which 
language  indeed  they  had  been  speaking  all  the  time  so 
that  Agafya  Mikhailovna  might  not  understand  them, 
"  do  you  know,  maman,  that  I  somehow  expect  some- 
thing decided.  You  know  what  I  mean.  How  nice  it 
would  be." 

"What  a  master-hand  at  matchmaking  you  are,"  ex- 
claimed Dolly.  "  How  adroitly  she  has  brought  them 
together." 

"No,  but  tell  me,  niavimi,  what  do  you  think  of  it .'' " 

"What  do  I  think  of  it.-*  He  can  at  any  time  have 
his  choice  of  all  the  best  in  Russia ; "  by  he  she  meant 
SergyeT  Ivanovitch.  "  He  is  not  so  young  as  he  was, 
but  still  I  know  many  would  set  their  caps  for  him. 
She  is  very  good,  but  he  might...." 

"  No,  indeed,  you  know  perfectly  well  that  nothing 
better  could  be  imagined  for  either  of  them.  In  the 
first  place,  she  is  charming,"  said  Kitty,  bending  down 
one  finger. 

"  She  pleases  him  very  much,  that  is  true,"  said  Dolly, 
in  confirmation. 

"  In  the  next  place,  he  has  such  a  position  in  the  world 
that  it  would  make  no  difference  to  him  what  his  wife's 
property  or  social  standing  was.  He  needs  only  one 
;hing  —  a  sweet,  pretty,  even-tempered  wife." 

"Yes,  he  might  be  very  happy  with  her,"  said  Dolly, 
in  confirmation  of  this  also. 

"  In  the  third  place,  she  must  love  him,  and  so  it  is 
now....  and  so  it  would  be  perfectly  lovely....  I  expect 
when  they  come  in  from  the  woods  it  will  be  all  decided. 
I  shall  read  it  instantly  in  their  eyes.  I  should  be  so 
glad What  do  you  think  about  it,  Dolly  ? " 


ANNA   KARENINA  65 

"  Do  not  get  so  excited.  You  really  must  not  get  so 
excited,"  said  her  mother. 

"  But  I  am  not  excited,  mamma,  I  think  that  he  will 
surely  propose  to  her  to-day." 

"  Oh,  how  strange  it  is  how  and  when  a  man  pro- 
poses. —  Even  if  there  is  an  obstacle,  it  is  suddenly 
swept  away,"  said  Dolly,  smiling  pensively  and  recall- 
ing the  old  days  with  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 

"  Mamma,  how  did  papa  propose  to  you,"  asked  Kitty, 
suddenly. 

"There  was  nothing  extraordinary  about  it  —  very 
simply,"  replied  the  princess ;  but  her  face  grew  all 
radiant  at  the  remembrance. 

"  No,  but  how  was  it  ?  Did  you  love  him  before  you 
allowed  him  to  speak .''  " 

Kitty  found  a  special  charm  in  the  fact  that  now  she 
could  talk  with  her  mother,  as  with  an  equal,  on  the 
most  important  questions  in  the  lives  of  women. 

"  Of  course  I  loved  him.  He  came  to  visit  us  in  the 
country." 

"  But  how  was  it  decided,  mamma .''  " 

"  Do  you  really  think  that  you  young  people  have  in- 
vented something  new  ?  It  is  always  one  and  the  same 
thing ;  it  is  decided  by  looks  and  smiles." 

"  How  well  you  describe  it,  mamma.  That  is  just  it, 
*  by  looks  and  smiles,' "  said  Dolly,  confirming  what  her 
mother  had  said. 

"  But  what  words  did  he  say  ? " 

"What  words  did  Kostia  say  to  you  .-*" 

"  He  wrote  in  chalk How  long  it  seems  since  then," 

said  Kitty. 

And  the  three  ladies  sat  occupied  with  the  same  thought. 

Kitty  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence.  She  had 
been  thinking  about  that  long-past  winter  before  her 
marriage,  and  her  infatuation  for  Vronsky. 

"There  is  one  thing  —  Varenka's  first  love,"  said  she, 
remembering  this  by  a  natural  connection  of  thought. 
"  I  wanted  to  give  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  a  hint  of  that  to 
warn  him.  All  men,"  she  added,  "are  awfully  jealous 
of  our  past." 

VOL.  III.  —  5 


66  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  Not  all,"  said  Dolly.  "You  judge  by  your  husband. 
I  believe  he  is  even  now  tormented  by  the  remembrance 
of  Vronsky  ;  is  n't  that  so  ?  " 

"  He  is ! "  replied  Kitty,  with  a  pensive  smile  in  her  eyes. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  what  there  is  in  your  past  life  to 
disquiet  him,"  exclaimed  the  princess,  her  mother,  re- 
senting the  inference  that  her  maternal  vigilance  was 
called  in  question.  "  Is  it  because  Vronsky  paid  you 
some  attention  ?     That  happens  to  every  young  girl." 

"  Yes,  but  we  were  not  talking  about  that,"  said  Kitty, 
blushing. 

"  No,  permit  me  to  finish  what  I  was  saying,"  pursued 
the  princess ;  "  and  besides,  you  yourself  would  not  per- 
mit me  to  have  an  explanation  with  Vronsky,  do  you 
remember.'' " 

"  Oh,  mamma  !  "  exclaimed  Kitty,  with  an  exclamation 
of  pain. 

"There  is  no  need  of  your  being  vexed Your  be- 
havior toward  him  could  never  have  been  anything  but 
perfectly  proper.  I  myself  should  have  challenged  him  ! 
However,  my  darling,  don't  allow  yourself  to  get  ex- 
cited.    Please  remember  this,  and  calm  yourself." 

"  I  am  perfectly  calm,  niamany 

"  How  fortunate  it  turned  out  for  Kitty  that  Anna 
appeared  on  the  scene,"  said  Dolly,  "and  how  unfortu- 
nate for  her.  How  their  positions  are  reversed,"  she 
added,  overwhelmed  by  her  own  thought.  .  "  Anna  was 
so  happy  then  and  Kitty  thought  herself  so  miserable. 
I  often  think  of  her.     What  a  complete  change  !  " 

"  What  is  the  use  of  thinking  about  her  ?  She  is  a 
vile,  disgusting,  heartless  woman,"  exclaimed  the  prin- 
cess, who  could  not  forget  that  Kitty  had  married  Levin 
instead  of  Vronsky. 

"  What  is  the  good  of  speaking  about  her,  anyway  !  " 
said  Kitty,  in  disgust.     "  I  do  not  think  about  her  nor 

do  I  wish  to  think  of  her  at  all I  do  not  wish  to  think 

about  her,"  she  repeated,  hearing  her  husband's  well- 
known  step  on  the  steps  leading  to  the  terrace. 

"  Whom  do  you  wish  not  to  think  about  ? "  asked 
Levin,  appearing  on  the  terrace. 


ANNA   KARENINA  67 

No  one  answered,  and  he  did  not  repeat  his  question. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  am  disturbing  your  feminine 
realm,"  said  he,  looking  angrily  at  them  all,  and  perceiv- 
ing that  they  were  talking  about  something  which  they 
would  not  talk  about  in  his  presence.  For  an  instant  he 
felt  that  he  shared  Agafya  Mikhai'lovna's  sentiments  — 
her  dissatisfaction  at  the  Shcherbatsky  way  of  making 
preserves  without  water,  and  especially  the  alien  regime 
of  his  wife's  family  !  Nevertheless,  he  smiled  and  went 
up  to  Kitty.  "Well,  how  is  it?"  he  asked,  looking  at  her 
with  the  same  expression  every  one  used  in  addressing  her. 

"All  right,"  said  Kitty,  with  a  smile;  "and  how  is  it 
with  you  ? " 

"  The  three-horse  team  will  take  a  larger  load  than  we 
can  put  on  the  telyega.  Shall  we  go  to  meet  the  chil- 
dren ?     I  have  ordered  the  men  to  harness." 

"  What,  are  you  going  to  take  Kitty  in  the  linyeika  ^  ?" 
exclaimed  the  princess,  reproachfully. 

"We  shall  walk  the  horses,  princess." 

Levin  never  called  the  princess  "  maman,''  as  his 
brothers-in-law  did,  and  the  princess  resented  it.  But 
Levin,  though  he  loved  and  respected  her,  could  not 
call  her  so  without  doing  violence  to  his  feelings  toward 
the  memory  of  his  own  mother. 

"  Come  with  us,  inamaii,"  said  Kitty. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  countenance  such  imprudence  !  " 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  walk ;  that  is  good  for  me,"  said 
Kitty,  rising  to  take  her  husband's  arm. 

"Good  for  you!  But  there's  reason  in  all  things," 
said  the  princess. 

"  Well,  Agafya  Mikhai'lovna,  are  your  preserves  done .'' 
Is  the  new  method  good .'' "  asked  Levin,  smiling  at  the 
housekeeper  in  his  desire  to  cheer  her. 

"  Perhaps  they  're  good ;  but,  in  my  opinion,  much 
overdone." 

"  There  's  one  thing  about  them  that 's  better,  Agafya 
Mikhai'lovna,  they  won't  spoil,"  said  Kitty,  divining  her 
husband's  intention,  and  with  the  same  feeling  address- 
ing the  old  servant.  "  And  you  know  the  ice  in  the  ice- 
^  Linyeika  is  a  wide  drozhsky  with  several  seats. 


68  ANNA   KARENINA 

house  is  all  melted  and  we  can't  get  any  more.  As  for 
your  spiced  meats,  mamma  assures  me  that  she  has  never 
eaten  any  better,"  she  added,  adjusting,  with  a  smile,  the 
housekeeper's  loosened  neckerchief. 

Agafya  Mikhailovna  looked  angrily  at  Kitty.  "  Do 
not  try  to  console  me,  baruinya.  To  see  you  with  him  is 
enough  to  content  me." 

This  familiar  way  of  speaking  of  her  master  touched 
Kitty. 

"  Come  and  show  us  the  best  places  to  find  mush- 
rooms." 

The  old  woman  raised  her  head,  smiling,  as  if  to  say, 
"  One  would  gladly  guard  you  from  all  hatred,  if  it  were 
possible." 

"  Follow  my  advice,  please,  and  put  over  each  pot  of 
jelly  a  round  piece  of  paper  soaked  in  rum,  and  you  will 
not  need  ice  in  order  to  preserve  them,"  said  the 
princess. 


CHAPTER   III 

Kitty  was  especially  glad  of  the  opportunity  to  be 
alone  with  her  husband,  because  she  had  noticed  how  a 
shadow  of  dissatisfaction  had  crossed  his  telltale  face 
when  he  stepped  on  the  terrace  and  asked  what  they 
were  talking  about,  and  no  one  replied. 

As  they  walked  along  in  front  of  the  others,  and,  los- 
ing sight  of  the  house,  took  to  the  well-trodden,  dusty 
road,  bestrewn  with  rye  and  corn,  she  seized  his  hand 
and  pressed  it  against  her  side.  He  had  already  for- 
gotten the  momentary  unpleasant  impression,  and  now 
that  he  was  alone  with  her,  and  while  the  thought  of 
her  approaching  maternity  did  not  for  an  instant  escape 
from  his  mind,  he  experienced  a  novel  joy  in  the  sense 
of  the  presence  of  a  beloved  woman  —  a  joy  perfectl}^ 
free  from  anything  sensual.  There  was  nothing  special 
to  talk  about,  but  he  liked  to  hear  the  sound  of  her 
voice,  which,  like  the  expression  of  her  eyes,  had  changed, 
owing  to  her  condition.     In  her  voice,  as  well  as  in  her 


ANNA    KARENINA  69 

eyes,  there  was  a  gentleness  and  gravity  like  that  which 
people  show  when  their  attention  has  been  concentrated 
on  some  one  favorite  task. 

"  You  are  not  getting  tired,  are  you  ?  Lean  on  me 
more,"  said  he. 

"  No,  I  am  so  glad  to  have  a  chance  to  be  alone  with 
you,  and  I  confess  that  I  miss  our  winter  evenings  when 
we  two  were  alone  together,  much  as  I  enjoy  having 
them  here !  " 

"  That  was  good,  but  this  is  better.  Both  are  better," 
said  he,  pressing  her  hand. 

"  Do  you  know  what  we  were  talking  about  when 
you  came .-'  " 

"  About  preserves .''  " 

"  Yes,  about  preserves ;  but  afterward  about  the  way 
men  propose." 

"Ah!"  said  Levin,  listening  rather  to  the  sound  of 
her  voice  than  to  the  words  which  she  spoke,  and  all 
the  time  thinking  of  the  road  which  they  were  following 
down  to  the  forest,  and  carefully  avoiding  the  places 
that  might  cause  her  to  stumble. 

"  But  how  about  Sergyef  Ivanovitch  and  Varenka  .-* 
Have  you  noticed  it.-' ....  I  very  much  wish  it  might  come 
about,"  she  went  on  to  say.  "What  do  you  think  about 
it.?" 

And  she  glanced  into  his  face. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  think,"  replied  Levin,  with  a 
smile.  "  SergyeT  in  this  respect  was  always  a  mystery  to 
me.     I  think  I  told  you  about  it."  .... 

"  Yes,  that  he  was  in  love  with  a  young  girl,  but  she 
died.".... 

"  That  was  when  I  was  a  child  ;  I  knew  it  by  tradi- 
tion. I  remember  him  as  he  was  then.  He  was  won- 
derfully charming.  But  since  then  I  have  watched  him 
with  women.  He  is  polite  ;  he  likes  some  of  them  ;  but 
you  can't  help  feeling  that  for  him  they  are  merely  peo- 
ple, not  women." 

"Yes,  but  now  in  the  case  of  Varenka....  it  seems  to 
me  there  is  some ....  " 

"  Maybe  there  is  ....  but  one  must  know  him He  is 


70  ANNA    KARENINA 

a  peculiar,  a  remarkable  man.  He  lives  only  a  spiritual 
life.     He  is  too  pure  and  high-minded  a  man ...." 

"  What  do  you  mean .''  How  could  this  bring  him  to 
a  lower  level  ? " 

"  I  don't  say  it  would,  but  he  is  so  accustomed  to  live 
a  spiritual  life  only  that  he  cannot  reconcile  himself  to 
what  is  matter  of  fact.  And  Varenka  is  quite  matter  of 
fact." 

Levin  had  by  this  time  become  accustomed  to  speak 
his  thoughts  with  all  freedom,  not  taking  pains  to  couch 
it  in  explicit  words ;  he  knew  that  his  wife  in  such  mo- 
ments of  intimate  communion  as  now  would  understand 
what  he  expressed  by  a  hint,  and  she  did  understand 
him. 

"  Yes,  but  she  has  none  of  that  practicality  such  as  I 
have.  I  can  understand  that  he  would  never  fall  in  love 
with  me.     She  is  all  soul." 

"That  is  not  so,  he  is  so  fond  of  you.  And  I  am 
always  so  glad  that  my  friends  like  you.".... 

"Yes,  he  is  kind  to  me;  but...." 

"  But  not  as  it  was  with  our  lamented  Nikolenka .... 
you  loved  each  other,"  said  Levin,  in  conclusion.  "  But 
why  not  speak  it  out .''  "  he  added.  "  I  often  reproach 
myself  that  one  so  quickly  forgets.  Oh,  what  a  terrible, 
what  a  fascinating  man  he  was ! ....  But  what  were  we 
talking  about .''  "  said  Levin,  after  a  silence. 

"You  mean  that  he  is  incapable  of  falling  in  love," 
said  she,  expressing  her  husband's  thought  in  her  own 
way. 

"  I  do  not  say  that,  but  he  has  none  of  that  weakness 
which  is  requisite ....  and  I  always  have  envied  him,  and 
envy  him  still,  in  spite  of  my  happiness." 

"  You  envy  him  because  he  is  incapable  of  falling  in 
love .? " 

"  I  envy  him  because  he  is  better  than  I  am,"  said 
Levin,  smiling.  "  He  does  not  live  for  himself ;  it  is 
duty  which  guides  him,  and  so  he  has  a  right  to  be 
serene  and  well  satisfied." 

"And  you  .^  "  asked  Kitty,  with  a  mischievous  smile. 

He  could  never  follow  the  course   of   her  thoughts 


ANNA    KARENINA  71 

when  they  caused  her  to  smile.  But  the  last  deduction 
was  that  her  husband,  who  had  the  greatest  admiration 
for  his  brother,  and  who  humbled  himself  before  him, 
was  insincere.  Kitty  knew  that  this  insincerity  of  his 
was  caused  by  his  love  for  him,  from  a  sort  of  consci- 
entious scruple  at  being  too  happy,  and  especially  from 
a  never  ceasing  desire  to  be  better  —  and  she  loved  this 
in  him,  and  that  was  why  she  smiled. 

"  But  why  should  you  be  dissatisfied .-' "  she  asked, 
with  the  same  smile. 

Her  disbelief  in  his  self-dissatisfaction  pleased  him, 
and  he  unconsciously  provoked  her  to  explain  the 
reasons  for  her  disbelief. 

"I  am  happy,  but  I  am  dissatisfied  with  myself....  " 
said  he. 

"  How  can  you  be  dissatisfied,  if  you  are  happy  } " 

"  How  can  I  express  it  .'* ....  In  my  heart  of  hearts  I 
wish  nothing  else  except  that  you  should  not  stumble. 
Oh  !  you  must  not  jump  so,"  he  exclaimed,  interrupting 
his  argument  with  a  reproach,  because  she  had  made  a 
too  vivacious  motion  in  jumping  over  a  branch  which 
lay  in  the  path. 

"  But  when  I  criticize  myself  and  compare  myself 
with  others,  especially  with  my  brother,  I  am  conscious 
of  all  my  inferiority." 

"  But  why  ? "  persisted  Kitty,  with  the  same  smile. 
"  Are  n't  you  always  doing  for  others  ?  And  your  farm- 
ing, your  book.-* " .... 

"  Yes,  I  feel  this  especially  now ;  and  you  are  to 
blame,"  said  he,  pressing  her  hand.  "  I  do  this  so,  so 
superficially.  Ah,  if  I  could  love  all  this  work  as  I  love 
you  ! ....  But  of  late  I  work  on  it  as  if  it  were  a  task  im- 
posed on  me." 

"  But  what  do  you  say  about  papa  ? "  asked  Kitty. 
''  Is  he  unworthy  because  he  does  nothing  for  the  com- 
monwealth }" 

"  He  .'*....  oh,  no!  But  one  must  have  just  such  sim- 
plicity, transparency,  goodness,  as  he  has  ;  but  I  have  n't, 
have  I.''  If  I  do  not  work,  I  am  tormented.  'T  is  you  who 
have  made  it  so.     If  it  were  not  for  you,  and  if  it  were 


72  ANNA    KARENINA 

not  for  what  is  coming,"  said  he,  with  a  significant 
glance  at  her  figure,  "  I  should  devote  all  my  powers 
to  this  work ;  but  now  I  can't,  and  my  conscience  pricks 
me.     I  do  it  like  a  task,  it  is  all  pretense  ....  "    . 

"Would  you  like  to  exchange  with  Sergyei'  Ivano- 
vitch,"  asked  Kitty ;  "  would  you  Uke  to  work  for  nothing 
but  your  duty  and  the  general  welfare  of  mankind  ? " 

"  Of  course  not.     The  fact  is,  I  am  so  happy  that  I 

can't  reason  clearly So  you  think  the  proposal  will 

take  place  to-day,  do  you  ? "  he  asked,  after  a  moment's 
silence. 

"  I  think  so,  and  then  I  think  not.  But  I  wish  with 
all  my  heart  it  might.  Here,  wait!"  She  stooped 
down  and  plucked  a  daisy  growing  by  the  roadside. 
"  Now,  count ;  /le  'II  propose^  he  'II  not  propose  ^  she  said, 
giving  him  the  flower. 

"  He  '11  propose,  he  *11  not  propose,"  repeated  Levin, 
picking  off  the  narrow,  white,  trembling  petals. 

"  No,  no ! "  cried  Kitty,  stopping  him  and  seizing  his 
arm,  as  she  excitedly  watched  his  fingers.  "  You  pulled 
off  two !  " 

"Well,  that  little  one  doesn't  count,"  said  Levin,  tear- 
ing off  a  short  undeveloped  petal.  "  But  here  comes  the 
linyei'ka  to  meet  us." 

"Kitty,  you  haven't  fatigued  yourself.^"  cried  the 
princess. 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world,  mamma." 

"Well,  get  in,  if  the  horses  are  quiet  and  will  walk." 

But  there  was  no  need  of  riding;  the  place  was  so 
near  they  continued  walking. 


CHAPTER  IV 

Varenka,  in  her  white  kerchief  setting  off  her  dark 
locks,  and  surrounded  by  children  whom  she  was  good- 
naturedly  and  gayly  entertaining,  and  evidently  excited 
by  the  possibility  of  a  declaration  from  a  man  who  was 
agreeable  to  her,  was  very  fascinating.  Sergyei  Ivano- 
vitch  walked  by  her  side,  and  could  not  refrain  from 


ANNA   KARENINA  73 

admiring  her.  As  he  looked  at  her  he  recalled  all  the 
pleasant  remarks  he  had  heard  her  make,  all  the  good- 
ness that  he  had  found  in  her,  and  he  confessed  to  him- 
self more  and  more  that  the  feeling  which  she  aroused 
in  him  was  something  peculiar,  like  what  he  had  ex- 
perienced once,  only  long,  long  before,  in  his  early  youth. 

The  feeling  of  pleasure  at  being  near  her  kept  grow- 
ing stronger,  and  at  last  when,  as  he  put  into  her  basket 
a  monstrous  birch  mushroom  with  thin  stem  and  edges, 
he  looked  into  her  eyes,  and,  noticing  the  blush  of  pleas- 
ure and  timid  emotion  which  spread  over  her  face,  he 
himself  grew  confused,  and  smiled  with  a  mute  smile 
which  said  too  much. 

"  If  this  is  the  way  it  is  going,  I  must  deliberate  and 
come  to  a  decision,  and  not  give  way  like  a  child  to  the 
impulse  of  a  moment." 

"  I  am  going  now  to  hunt  for  mushrooms  indepen- 
dently of  the  rest  of  you,  otherwise  my  acquisitions  will 
not  be  noticed,"  said  he;  and  he  went  off  by  himself  from 
the  edge  of  the  woods,  where  they  had  been  walking 
along  the  velvety  turf  among  the  old  birch  trees,  scattered 
here  and  there  in  the  forest  together  with  the  gray  trimks 
of  aspens  and  dark  clumps  of  hazelnuts.  Going  off  forty 
steps  or  so,  and  coming  to  a  clump  of  the  bush  called 
beresklet,  which  was  in  full  flower  with  its  rosy  catkins, 
Sergyei  Ivanovitch  sheltered  himself  behind  it,  knowing 
that  he  would  not  be  seen. 

Around  him  it  was  perfectly  still.  Only  up  in  the 
tree-tops  above  his  head,  ceaseless,  like  a  swarm  of  bees, 
buzzed  the  flies,  and  occasionally  he  heard  the  voices  of 
the  children.  Suddenly,  not  far  from  the  edge  of  the 
woods,  rang  out  Varenka's  contralto  voice,  calling  Grisha, 
and  a  happy  smile  spread  over  Sergyei  Ivanovitch's  face. 
When  he  realized  what  he  was  doing,  he  shook  his  head 
disapprovingly  at  his  state  of  mind,  and,  taking  out  a 
cigar,  he  began  to  smoke. 

It  was  some  time  before  he  could  light  a  match  against 
the  bole  of  a  birch  tree.  The  juicy  scales  of  the  white 
bark  dampened  the  phosphorus,  and  the  match  refused 
to  burn.     At  last  one  of  the  matches  took  fire,  and  the 


74  ANNA   KARENINA 

fragrant  cigar-smoke,  like  a  wide  wavering  scarf,  floated 
up  and  away  above  the  bush  under  the  pendant  twigs 
of  the  birches.  As  he  followed  the  whiff  of  smoke  with 
his  eyes,  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  slowly  walked  on,  thinking 
over  the  situation. 

"And  why  should  I  not  .^ "  he  asked  himself.  "If 
this  was  a  caprice  of  passion,  if  I  had  experienced  only 
this  attachment,  this  mutual  attachment  —  for  I  may 
call  it  mutual- — -and  if  I  felt  that  it  would  run  counter 
to  the  whole  scheme  of  my  life  —  if  I  felt  that  in  giving 
way  to  this  impression  I  should  change  my  calling  and 
duty  —  then  it  would  not  do  at  all.  The  one  thing  that 
I  can  bring  against  it  is  that  when  I  lost  Marie  I  vowed 
that  I  would  never  marry,  in  remembrance  of  her.    This 

is  the  only  thing  that  I  can  say  against  this  feeling 

This  is  serious,"  said  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  to  himself,  but 
at  the  same  time  he  recognized  that  this  consideration 
had  personally  for  him  no  great  importance,  but  would 
simply  spoil  in  the  eyes  of  others  the  poetic  role  which 
he  had  been  keeping  up  so  long. 

"  But  besides  this,  no  matter  how  long  I  searched,  I 
should  never  find  out  what  would  be  said  against  my 
feeling.  If  I  used  all  my  wits,  I  could  never  find  any 
one  better." 

Among  all  the  women  and  girls  whom  he  had  ever 
known  he  could  not  think  of  one  who  united  to  such  a 
high  degree  all,  yes,  verily,  all  the  quaUties  which  in  a 
cold  calculation  he  should  wish  to  see  in  his  wife.  She 
had  all  the  freshness  and  charm  of  youth,  and  yet  she 
was  no  longer  a  child  and  if  she  loved  him  she  loved 
him  sensibly,  as  a  woman  ought  to  love  :  this  was  one 
thing.  Another  was :  she  was  not  only  far  removed 
from  worldly-mindedness,  but  evidently  found  fashionable 
society  distasteful;  but  at  the  same  time  she  knew  society 
well  and  had  all  those  ways  of  a  woman  of  good  society, 
lacking  which  married  life  for  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  was 
unthinkable.  Thirdly,  she  was  religious,  but  not  like  a 
child,  irresponsibly  religious  and  good,  as  Kitty,  for 
example,  was,  but  her  life  was  founded  on  religious  con- 
victions.    Even    in  trifles  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  found  in 


ANNA    KARENINA  75 

her  all  that  he  desired  in  a  wife.  She  was  poor  and 
unencumbered,  so  that  she  would  not  bring  a  throng  of 
relatives  and  their  influence  into  her  husband's  home, 
as  he  saw  was  the  case  with  Kitty ;  but  she  would  be 
in  everything  pledged  to  her  husband,  which  was. one  of 
the  conditions  which  he  had  demanded  for  himself 
in  case  he  ever  had  any  family  life. 

And  this  young  woman,  having  all  these  qualities, 
loved  him.  He  was  modest,  but  he  could  not  help  see- 
ing this.  And  he  liked  her.  One  obstacle  stood  in  the 
way  —  his  age.  But  his  family  were  long-lived,  he  had 
not  as  yet  a  single  gray  hair,  no  one  took  him  to  be 
more  than  forty,  and  he  remembered  that  Varenka  had 
said  that  only  in  Russia  men  of  fifty  considered  them- 
selves old  men,  while  in  France  a  man  of  fifty  reckoned 
himself  datis  la  foire  de  Vdgc  and  one  of  forty  was  nn 
jeiine  Jiomme.  But  what  signified  his  years  when  he 
felt  himself  as  young  in  spirit  as  he  had  been  twenty 
years  before .-'  Was  not  youth  the  feeling  which  he 
enjoyed  when,  coming  out  again  from  the  forest  into  the 
clearing,  he  saw  in  the  clear  sunlight  "\^arenka's  grace- 
ful figure  in  her  yellow  frock  and  with  her  basket,  mov- 
ing along  with  light  steps  past  the  bole  of  an  ancient 
birch  tree,  and  the  impression  produced  by  the  sight 
of  Varenka  blended  with  the  surprising  beauty  of  a 
field  of  oats  shining  yellow  under  the  oblique  rays  of 
the  sun,  and  beyond  the  field  the  old  forest,  variegated 
with  yellow  and  stretching  away  into  the  azure  distance .-' 
His  heart  swelled  with  joy.  A  feeling  of  tenderness 
seized  him.  He  felt  within  him  that  his  mind  was  made 
up.  Varenka,  who  had  just  stooped  down  to  pick  up  a 
mushroom,  with  an  agile  motion  straightened  herself  up 
again  and  glanced  around. 

Sergye'i  Ivanovitch,  tossing  away  his  cigar,  went 
toward  her  with  resolute  steps. 


^(i  ANNA    KARENINA 


CHAPTER  V 

"Vavara  Andreyevna,  when  I  was  very  young,  I 
formed  for  myself  an  ideal  of  the  woman  whom  I  should 
love  and  whom  I  should  be  happy  to  call  my  wife.  I 
have  lived  a  long  life,  and  now  for  the  first  time  I  find 
in  you  all  that  I  was  seeking.  I  love  you  and  I  offer 
you  my  hand." 

Sergyei  Ivanovitch  was  saying  these  words  to  himself 
when  he  was  within  ten  steps  of  Varenka.  She  was 
kneeling  on  the  grass  and  defending  with  her  hands  a 
mushroom  from  Grisha,  and  at  the  same  time  calling  to 
little  Masha. 

"  Here,  come  here.  Little  ones....  lots  of  them,"  she 
cried,  in  her  deep,  pleasant  voice. 

Though  she  saw  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  approaching  she 
did  not  rise  nor  did  she  change  her  position  ;  but  every- 
thing told  him  that  she  was  aware  of  his  presence  and 
was  glad. 

"Did  you  find  any.''"  she  asked,  turning  her  sweet 
face  toward  him  with  a  smile. 

"  Not  one,"  replied  Sergyei  Ivanovitch.     "  And  you  .? " 

She  made  no  reply,  her  attention  being  just  then 
absorbed  by  the  children  who  surrounded  her. 

"  Here  's  one  for  you  near  the  twig,"  and  she  pointed 
out  a  little  agaricus  pushing  its  elastic  red  cap  through 
the  dry  grass,  from  which  it  was  extricating  itself. 

Varenka  got  up,  after  Masha  had  plucked  the  mush- 
room, breaking  it  into  two  white  halves.  "  That 
reminds  me  of  my  childhood,"  she  remarked,  as  she 
joined  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  and  walked  with  him  away 
from  the  children. 

They  proceeded  a  few  steps  in  silence.  Varenka  saw 
that  he  wanted  to  speak ;  she  suspected  what  he  had  in 
mind,  and  felt  stifled  with  the  emotions  of  joy  and  terror. 
They  had  now  gone  so  far  from  the  rest  that  no  one 
could  have  heard  them,  yet  he  had  not  opened  his  mouth 
to  speak.  Varenka  would  have  done  better  not  to  say 
a  word.     After  a  silence  it  would  have  been  easier  to 


ANNA   KARENINA     '  77 

say  what  they  wanted  to  say  than  after  any  casual 
words.  But  against  her  own  will,  as  it  were  unexpect- 
edly, Varenka  broke  out  :  — 

"  And  so  you  did  not  find  any.  But  there  are  never 
so  many  mushrooms  in  the  woods  as  along  the  edge." 

Sergyei"  Ivanovitch  sighed  and  made  no  answer.  He 
was  annoyed  because  she  spoke  about  mushrooms.  He 
wanted  to  bring  her  back  to  the  first  words  which  she 
had  spoken  about  her  childhood ;  but,  as  it  were,  con- 
trary to  his  will,  after  a  brief  silence,  he  made  an  obser- 
vation on  what  she  had  said  last. 

"  I  have  heard  that  the  white  mushrooms  are  found  pre- 
eminently on  the  edge  of  the  forest,  but  I  can't  tell  them." 

A  few  moments  more  passed ;  they  had  gone  still 
farther  away  from  the  children,  and  were  wholly  alone. 

Varenka's  heart  beat  so  violently  that  she  heard  its 
throbs,  and  she  was  conscious  that  she  was  blushing, 
turning  pale,  and  then  blushing  again. 

To  be  the  wife  of  such  a  man  as  Koznuishef  after  her 
position  with  Mme.  Stahl  seemed  to  her  the  height  of 
happiness.  Moreover,  she  was  almost  convinced  that 
she  was  in  love  with  him.  And  this  was  to  be  decided 
immediately  !  It  was  a  terrible  moment  for  her ;  terrible, 
both  what  he  would  say,  and  what  he  would  not  say. 

Now,  or  never,  it  would  have  to  be  decided ;  Sergyei 
Ivanovitch  also  felt  this.  Everything  in  Varenka's 
looks,  in  her  heightened  color,  in  the  way  she  dropped 
her  eyes,  betrayed  the  most  painful  expectation. 

Sergyei'  Ivanovitch  saw  this  and  was  sorry  for  her. 
He  even  felt  that  he  should  wrong  her  if  he  kept  silence. 
He  made  an  effort  to  recall  his  recent  arguments  in  favor 
of  making  the  decision.  He  even  repeated  to  himself 
the  words  in  which  he  was  going  to  couch  his  declaration  ; 
but  instead  of  these  words,  by  some  combination  unex- 
pected to  himself,  he  asked  :  — 

"  What  is  the  difference  between  a  white  mushroom 
and  a  birch  mushroom  ?  " 

Varenka's  lips  trembled  as  she  answered :  — 

"  There  is  very  little  difference  in  the  cap,  but  it  lies 
in  the  root." 


78  ANNA    KARENINA 

And  as  soon  as  these  words  were  spoken  both  of 
them  felt  that  this  was  the  end  of  it,  that  what  should 
have  been  said  would  never  be  said,  and  the  emotion 
which  up  to  this  moment  had  reached  its  highest  pitch 
gradually  died  away. 

"  The  birch  mushroom,  or  its  root,  reminds  one  of  a 
black  beard  which  has  not  been  shaved  for  two  days," 
said  Sergyei'  Ivanovitch,  calmly. 

"  Quite  true,"  answered  Varenka,  smiling,  and  invol- 
untarily the  direction  of  their  walk  changed.  They  were 
going  back  toward  the  children.  Varenka  was  puzzled 
and  hurt,  but  at  the  same  time  she  experienced  a  sense 
of  relief.  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  mentally  reviewed  his 
arguments  in  favor  of  marriage,  and  found  them  mis- 
taken.    He  could  not  be  unfaithful  to  Marie's  memory. 

"  Gently,  children,  gently,"  cried  Levin,  testily,  as  the 
children  sprang  toward  Kitty  with  shouts  of  glee. 

Behind  the  children  came  Sergyei'  Ivanovitch  and 
Varenka.  Kitty  needed  not  to  question  them.  She 
knew  by  their  calm  and  slightly  mortified  manner  that 
the  hope  which  she  had  been  nursing  would  not  be 
realized. 

"  Well,  how  is  it  .-*  "  her  husband  asked,  when  they 
returned  to  the  house. 

"  It  will  not  happen,"  said  Kitty,  with  a  smile  and 
manner  which  reminded  him  of  her  father,  as  Levin  had 
often  remarked  to  his  dehght. 

"  Why  won't  it  happen  .''  " 

"This  is  why,"  said  she,  taking  his  hand,  raising  it  to 
her  mouth,  and  touching  it  with  her  closed  lips.  "  As 
people  kiss  a  bishop's  hand  !  " 

"  Which  one  has  failed  of  it .-'  "  he  asked,  laughing. 

"  Both.     It  must  be  so  when ....  " 

"  Here  come  the  muzhiks ....  " 

"  No,  not  yet." 


ANNA    KARENINA  79 


CHAPTER  VI 

While  the  children  took  their  supper,  the  older  peo- 
ple sat  on  the  balcony  and  talked  as  if  nothing  had 
happened  ;  but  all,  and  especially  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  and 
Varenka,  knew  very  well  that  an  important  event  had 
occurred,  although  it  was  a  negative  one.  The  two  ex- 
perienced a  feeling  such  as  a  boy  has  when,  having  failed 
in  the  examination,  he  is  either  kept  in  the  same  class  or 
is  excluded  forever  from  an  institution.  All  present, 
feeling  likewise  that  something  had  taken  place,  talked 
with  a  forced  animation. 

Levin  and  Kitty  felt  especially  happy  and  in  love  with 
each  other  that  evening.  And  that  they  were  happy  in 
their  love  seemed  to  make  it  impolite  to  comment  on  the 
unskilfulness  of  those  who  did  not  know  how  to  be 
happy,  and  this  made  them  feel  guilty. 

"  Take  my  word  for  it,  Alexandre  will  not  come," 
said  the  princess. 

That  evening  they  were  expecting  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch  from  the  train,  and  the  old  prince  had  written  that 
perhaps  he,  also,  would  come.  "  And  if  he  does  n't,  I 
know  why,"  continued  the  princess;  "  he  says  that  young 
people  ought  to  be  left  alone  during  the  first  part  of 
their  married  lives." 

"Yes,  papa:  is  abandoning  us.  for  that  very  reason. 
He  has  not  been  to  see  us  at  all.  But  how  are  we 
young  folks  ?     I  am  sure  we  are  quite  old." 

"  Only,  if  he  does  not  come,  and  I  have  to  take  my 
leave  of  you  children !  "  said  the  princess,  with  a  mel- 
ancholy sigh. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you,  mamma.-'"  cried  both 
daughters  at  once. 

"You  can  think  how  it  is  with  him.     Here,  now  ....  " 

And  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  the  old  princess's 
voice  broke.  The  daughters  exchanged  glances  in 
silence. 

"  Mamau  is  always  finding  some  melancholy  topic  !  " 
said  their  eyes.      They  did    not   know  that,   however 


8o  ANNA    KARENINA 

pleasant  it  was  for  the  princess  to  visit  her  daughters, 
and  however  necessary  she  felt  that  she  was,  neverthe- 
less both  she  and  her  husband  had  been  very  sad  ever 
since  they  had  given  up  their  last  beloved  daughter 
and  the  family  nest  had  become  empty. 

"  What  is  it,  Agafya  Mikhailovna  ?  "  suddenly  asked 
Kitty  of  the  old  housekeeper,  whom  she  saw  standing 
near  with  a  mysterious  and  significant  look  in  her  eyes. 

"  It  is  about  supper." 

"  Now,  that  is  excellent,"  said  Dolly.  "  You  go  and 
make  your  arrangements,  and  I  will  hear  Grisha  recite 
his  lesson.     He  has  not  done  anything  all  day." 

"The  lesson  is  my  part !  No,  Dolly,  I  will  go,"  cried 
Levin,  springing  up. 

Grisha,  who  had  already  entered  the  gymnasium,  was 
obliged  to  keep  up  his  lessons  during  the  summer. 
Darya  Aleksandrovna,  who  had  already  begun,  in  Mos- 
cow, to  study  Latin  with  her  son,  now  that  she  had 
come  to  the  Levins',  had  made  it  a  rule  to  go  over  with 
him,  at  least  once  a  day,  his  most  difficult  lessons  in 
Latin  and  arithmetic.  Levin  had  taken  it  on  himself 
to  substitute  for  her.  But  the  mother,  having  once 
listened  while  Levin  was  hearing  the  recitation,  and 
noticing  that  he  did  not  teach  as  the  instructor  in  Mos- 
cow did,  with  an  awkward  attempt  not  to  hurt  his  feel- 
ings, told  Levin  decidedly  that  he  must  go  according 
to  the  book,  as  his  tutor  did,  and  that  she  had  better 
take  charge  of  the  lessons  again. 

Levin  was  annoyed  with  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  owing 
to  whose  carelessness  the  mother  had  charge  of  the 
children's  education,  though  she  understood  nothing 
about  it  at  all ;  and  he  was  annoyed  with  the  teachers, 
because  they  had- such  bad  methods  of  teaching.  But 
he  promised  his  sister-in-law  that  he  would  conduct  the 
recitations  as  she  wished.  And  so  he  continued  to  take 
charge  of  Grisha's  studies,  no  longer,  however,  in  his 
own  method,  but  according  to  the  book,  and  therefore 
perfunctorily,  and  frequently  forgetting  the  lesson-hour. 
And  that  is  what  had  happened  that  day. 

"  No,  I  will  go,  Dolly,  and  you  keep  your  seat,"  said 


ANNA    KARENINA  8i 

Ae.  "We  are  going  along  in  due  order  by  the  book. 
Only,  now  that  Stiva  is  coming,  we  shall  be  going  hunt- 
ing, so  we  shall  have  to  neglect  them." 

And  Levin  went  to  find  Grisha. 

Varenka  was  saying  almost  the  same  thing  to  Kitty. 
Varenka  had  found  the  way  of  being  useful  even  in  the 
Levins'  happy,  well-ordered  household. 

"  I  will  go  and  see  about  supper,  and  you  keep  your 
seat,"  said  she,  and  she  joined  Agafya  Mikhailovna. 

"  Yes,  yes !  but  you  won't  find  the  chickens.  Then .... " 
said  Kitty. 

"  Agafya  Mikhailovna  and  I  will  settle  the  difficulty," 
said  Varenka,  and  disappeared  with  her. 

"What  a  pretty  girl!"  exclaimed  the  princess. 

"  Not  pretty,  maman,  but  the  charmingest  girl  in  the 
world." 

'And  so  you  are  expecting  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  are 
you.''  "  said  Sergyei  Ivanovitch,  evidently  not  liking  to 
have  the  conversation  about  Varenka  prolonged.  "  It 
would  be  hard  to  find  two  brothers-in-law  less  alike," 
said  he,  with  a  sly  smile.  "  One  versatile,  living  only 
in  society,  like  a  fish  in  the  water ;  the  other,  our  Kostia. 
full  of  life  and  activity,  quick  at  everything,  but  as  soon 
as  he  gets  into  society  he  either  gives  up  the  ghost  or 
flops  about  aimlessly,  like  a  fish  on  dry  land  !  " 

"Yes,  he  is  very  heedless,"  said  the  princess,  address- 
ing Sergyei  Ivanovitch.  "  I  wanted  especially  to  ask 
you  to  persuade  him  that  it  is  impossible  for  her "  — 
she  was  referring  to  Kitty  —  "  to  stay  here ;  she  cer- 
tainly ought  to  be  taken  to  Moscow.  He  says  write  for 
a  doctor....  " 

"  Maman,  he  is  doing  everything ;  he  agrees  to  all 
you  want,"  said  Kitty,  vexed  with  her  mother  for  draw- 
ing Sergyei  Ivanovitch  into  this  matter  as  a  judge. 

While  they  were  talking,  the  whinnying  of  a  horse 
on  the  driveway  was  heard,  and  the  sound  of  wheels  on 
the  stones. 

Before  Dolly  could  jump  up  to  go  and  meet  her  hus- 
band, Levin  jumped  out  of  the  window  of  the  room  down- 
stairs where  he  was  teaching  Grisha,  and  put  Grisha  out. 

VOL.  III.  —  6 


82  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  It'  s  Stiva,"  cried  Levin,  from  below  the  balcony. 
"  We  had  finished,  Dolly;  don't  you  worry  !  "  he  added, 
as  the  boy  darted  off  to  meet  the  carriage. 

"  Is,  ea,  id,  ej'tis,  ejus,  ejus,''  cried  Grisha,  as  he  ran 
down  the  avenue. 

"  And  there  's  some  one  with  him  !  It  must  be  papa !  " 
cried  Levin,  standing  at  the  entrance  of  the  driveway. 
"  Kitty,  don't  come  down  by  the  steep  stairs.  Come 
round !  " 

But  Levin  was  mistaken  in  thinking  that  the  other 
man  in  the  carriage  was  the  old  prince.  When  he 
came  close  he  saw,  sitting  next  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, 
not  the  prince,  but  a  handsome,  portly  young  man,  in 
a  Scotch  cap  with  long  floating  ribbons.  This  was 
Vasenka  Veslovsky,  a  third  cousin  of  the  Shcherbat- 
skys,  a  brilliant  young  member  of  Moscow  and  Pe- 
tersburg society  — "  one  of  the  best  fellows  that  ever 
lived,  and  a  devotee  of  hunting,"  as  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch expressed  it  in  introducing  him. 

Veslovsky  was  not  in  the  least  disconcerted  by  the 
surprise  which  his  appearance,  in  place  of  the  old 
prince,  caused.  He  gayly  greeted  Levin,  reminding 
him  of  their  former  acquaintance,  and  took  Grisha  into 
the  carriage,  lifting  him  up  over  the  pointer  which 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch  had  brought  with  him. 

Levin  did  not  get  into  the  carriage,  but  followed  on 
foot.  He  was  somewhat  put  out  by  the  non-arrival  of 
the  old  prince,  whom  he  liked  better  and  better  the 
more  he  saw  him ;  he  was  still  more  put  out  at  the 
appearance  of  this  Vasenka  Veslovsky,  a  man  who  was 
utterly  unknown  and  superfluous.  He  seemed  to  him 
still  more  unknown  and  superfluous  when,  as  Levin 
approached  the  front  door,  about  which  had  collected 
a  lively  throng  of  old  and  young,  he  kissed  Kitty's  hand 
with  a  remarkably  flattering  and  gallant  look. 

"  Your  wife  and  I  are  cousins,  and  old  friends,"  said 
Vasenka  Veslovsky,  heartily  pressing  Levin's  hand  a 
second  time. 

"Well,  how  is  it,  any  game.-*"  asked  Stepan  Arka- 
dyevitch, addressing  Levin  almost  before  he  had  greeted 


ANNA    KARENINA  83 

the  others.     "Vasenka  and  I  have  the  most  ferocious 

intentions How  are  you,  nianian,  since  we  saw  each 

other  in  Moscow  ?....  Well,  Tania,  how  goes  it?  Get 
the  things  from  the  back  of  the  calash,  please,"  said  he, 
addressing  every  one  at  once.  "  How  well  you  look, 
Dollenka,"  said  he  to  his  wife,  again  kissing  her  hand, 
holding  it  in  his,  and  smoothing  it. 

Levin,  who  a  few  moments  before  had  been  in  the 
happiest  frame  of  mind,  now  looked  at  them  all  with 
indignant  eyes,  and  everything  disgusted  him. 

"  Whom  did  he  kiss  yesterday  with  those  same  lips  .''  " 
he  queried,  as  he  saw  how  affectionate  Stepan  Arka- 
dyevitch  was  to  his  wife.  He  looked  at  Dolly,  and  even 
she  was  displeasing  to  him.  "Of  course  she  cannot 
believe  in  his  love  for  her.  How,  then,  can  she  seem 
so  glad  .•*     Repulsive!  "  said  Levin  to  himself. 

He  looked  at  the  princess,  who  had  seemed  to  him  so 
charming  a  moment  before,  and  her  manner  of  receiv- 
ing this  Veslovsky  and  his  ribbons,  as  if  she  were  at 
home  there,  displeased  him. 

Even  SergyeT  Ivanovitch,  who  had  come  out  on  the 
porch  with  the  rest,  seemed  to  him  disagreeable  by  rea- 
son of  the  hypocritical  friendliness  with  which  he  met 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch ;  for  Levin  knew  that  his  brother 
neither  liked  nor  respected  Oblonsky. 

And  Varenka  disgusted  him,  because  she,  with  her 
sainte  nitouche  look,  nevertheless  met  this  stranger  as 
if  she  thought  only  what  sort  of  a  husband  would  he 
make  for  her. 

And  most  displeasing  of  all  was  Kitty,  as  she  fell  into 
conformity  with  the  tone  of  gayety  with  which  that 
gentleman  regarded  his  visit,  as  if  it  were  a  festival  for 
himself  and  all  the  rest ;  especially  disagreeable  was 
the  peculiar  smile  with  which  she  responded  to  his  smile. 

Noisily  talking,  they  all  went  into  the  house,  but  as 
soon  as  they  had  sat  down,  Levin  turned  on  his  heel 
and  started  off. 

Kitty  saw  that  something  was  amiss  with  her  husband. 
She  wanted  to  take  advantage  of  a  favorable  moment 
and  have  a  little  talk  with  him  alone,  but  he  hastened 


84  ANNA    KARENINA 

from  her,  declaring  that  he  had  business  to  attend  to  at 
the  office.  Not  for  a  long  time  had  his  affairs  seemed 
to  him  so  important  as  they  did  at  that  day. 

"  It  may  be  a  holiday  for  them,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  but  here  are  affairs  of  importance  to  be  attended  to, 
and  they  can't  be  delayed,  and  without  them  life  could 
not  be  carried  on." 


CHAPTER  VII 

Only  when  they  had  sent  to  tell  him  supper  was 
ready  did  Levin  go  back  to  the  house  again.  On  the 
stairway  Kitty  and  Agafya  Mikhailovna  were  standing 
holding  a  consultation  over  the  wines  for  supper. 

"  But  why  do  you  make  such  a  fuss  ?  Give  them  what 
you  usually  do." 

"No,   Stiva   doesn't    drink Kostia,  wait,  what   is 

the  matter  with  you .''  "  exclaimed  Kitty,  hastening  after 
him  ;  but  he,  without  heeding  her,  went  with  long  strides 
into  the  dining-room,  and  immediately  began  to  take  part 
in  the  lively  conversation  which  Vasenka  Veslovsky  and 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch  were  enjoying. 

"  What  do  you  say  .-*  Shall  we  go  hunting  to-morrow  ? " 
asked  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 

"Please  let  us  go,"  said  Veslovsky,  changing  his  seat 
to  another  chair,  and  doubling  his  fat  leg  under  him. 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad ;  yes,  we  will  go.  Have  you 
had  any  hunting  this  year  yet  ?  "  asked  Levin,  looking 
at  Veslovsky's  leg,  but  his  cordiality  was  put  on,  as 
Kitty  could  easily  see,  and  it  did  not  become  him.  "  I 
doubt  if  we  find  any  woodcock,  but  snipe  are  abundant. 
We  shall  have  to  start  early.  You  will  not  be  too  tired  ? 
Are  you  tired,  Stiva  .-*  " 

"  I  tired .''  I  don't  know  what  it  is  to  be  tired.  I  'ra 
ready  to  stay  up  all  night.  We  '11  go  and  take  a 
walk." 

"  Certainly,  let  us  stay  up  all  night.  Capital,"  said 
Veslovsky. 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  are  agreed  on  that  point,  that  you  can 


ANNA   KARENINA  85 

stay  up  all  night  and  also  keep  other  people  awake," 
said  Dolly,  in  that  tone  of  playful  irony  which  she 
almost  habitually  employed  in  addressing  her  husband. 
"  In  my  opinion,  I  had  better  be  going  to  bed.  I  won't 
eat  any  supper.     I  '11  go  now." 

"  No,  Dollenka,  sit  down,"  said  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch,  going  to  the  other  side  of  the  great  table  and 
taking  a  seat  near  his  wife.  "  I  've  so  many  things  to 
tell  you  about." 

"  Probably  mighty  little  !  " 

"Do  you  know — ^Veslovsky  has  been  at  Anna's.? 
She  lives  only  seventy  versts  ^  away  from  here ;  he  is 
going  there  when  he  leaves  us,  and  I  intend  to  go  too. 
Veslovsky,  come  here." 

Vasenka  approached  the  ladies,  and  sat  down  next  to 
Kitty. 

"  Oh,  please  tell  us  about  it.  Have  you  really  been 
to  Anna  Arkadyevna's  .-•  How  is  she  ?  "  asked  Darya 
Aleksandrovna. 

Levin  had  remained  at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  and 
while  he  kept  on  talking  with  the  princess  and  Varenka, 
he  observed  that  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  Dolly,  Kitty,  and 
Veslovsky  were  having  an  animated  and  mysterious  con- 
versation. Not  only  were  they  talking  confidentially, 
but  it  seemed  to  him  that  his  wife's  face  expressed  a 
deep  tenderness,  as,  without  dropping  her  eyes,  she 
looked  into  Vasenka's  handsome  face,  while  he  was 
talking  vivaciously. 

"  Their  establishment  is  superb,"  Vasenka  Veslovsky 
was  saying  in  reference  to  Vronsky  and  Anna  ;  "  of 
course,  I  don't  take  it  on  myself  to  pass  judgment  on 
them,  but  when  you  are  there  in  their  house,  you  feel 
yourself  at  home." 

"  What  are  their  plans  ?  " 

"They  would  like  to  pass  the  winter  in  Moscow,  I 
believe." 

"  How  jolly  it  would  be  for  us  to  go  there  together 
When  shall  you  be  there  ? "  Oblonsky  asked  Vasenka. 

"  I  am  going  to  spend  July  with  them." 
1 46.41  miles. 


86  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  And  are  you  going  ?  *'  he  asked  his  wife. 

"  I  have  long  been  wanting  to  go,  and  I  certainly 
shall,"  said  Dolly.  "  I  am  sorry  for  her,  and  I  know  her. 
She  is  a  lovely  woman.  When  you  have  gone  away,  I 
shall  go  alone ;  that  will  not  disturb  any  one,  and  it 
would  be  better  for  me  to  go  without  you." 

"Just  the  thing,"  answered  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 
"And  you,  Kitty.?" 

"  I  ?  Why  should  I  go  to  see  her  .''  "  said  Kitty  ;  and, 
blushing  with  vexation,  she  glanced  at  her  husband. 

"  Do  you  know  Anna  Arkadyevna  ? "  asked  Veslovsky ; 
"  she  is  a  very  fascinating  woman." 

"Yes,"  answered  Kitty,  blushing  still  more,  and  she 
rose  and  joined  her  husband.  "  So  you  are  going  hunt- 
ing to-morrow,  are  you.-* "  she  asked  him. 

Levin's  jealousy  during  those  few  moments,  and 
especially  at  the  blush  which  covered  her  cheeks  while 
she  was  talking  with  Veslovsky,  had  already  reached  an 
acute  stage.  Now,  hearing  her  question,  he  interpreted 
it  in  his  own  way.  Strange  as  it  was  afterward  for  him 
to  remember  this,  now  it  seemed  clear  to  him  that  the 
reason  for  her  asking  him  if  he  was  going  hunting  and 
for  her  interest  in  it  was  to  know  if  he  would  give  Va- 
senka  Veslovsky  that  pleasure,  and  that  proved  that  she 
was  already  in  love  with  him ! 

"Yes,  I  am  thinking  of  it,"  he  answered,  in  a  voice 
so  unnatural  and  constrained  that  he  himself  was  horri- 
fied at  it. 

"  Well,  you  had  better  stay  at  home  to-morrow  ;  Dolly 
has  hardly  seen  her  husband  yet.  Go  day  after  to- 
morrow." 

Levin  now  translated  Kitty's  words  thus :  — 

"  Do  not  separate  me  from  /iiju.  You  may  go ;  it  is 
all  the  same  to  me  ;  but  let  me  enjoy  the  society  of  this 
attractive  young  man." 

"  Oh,  if  you  desire  it,  we  will  stay  at  home  to-morrow," 
answered  Levin,  with  especial  pleasantness. 

Meantime,  Vasenka,  not  suspecting  the  effect  his 
presence  had  produced,  rose  from  the  table,  and  ap- 
proached Kitty  with  an  affectionate  smile. 


ANNA    KARENINA  87 

Levifi  noticed  that  smile.  He  grew  pale  and  for  a 
moment  could  not  get  his  breath. 

"  How  does  he  dare  to  look  at  my  wife  in  that  way  ? " 
He  was  boiling  ! 

"We  are  to  go  hunting  to-morrow,  are  we  not  .-' " 
asked  Vasenka,  and  he  sat  down  in  a  chair  and  again 
doubled  one  leg  under  him,  as  his  habit  was. 

Levin's  jealousy  grew  still  more  intense.  Already  he 
.  saw  himself  a  deceived  husband,  whom  his  wife  and  her 
lover  were  plotting  to  get  rid  of  that  they  might  enjoy 
each  other  in  peace. 

Nevertheless,  he  asked  Veslovsky,  with  all  friendliness 
and  hospitality,  about  his  hunting-gear,  his  guns  and 
boots,  and  agreed  to  go  the  next  day. 

To  Levin's  happiness  the  old  princess  put  an  end  to 
his  torture  by  advising  Kitty  to  go  to  bed.  But  even 
this  was  accompanied  by  new  suffering  for  Levin.  On 
bidding  his  hostess  "  good  night,"  Vasenka  tried  to  kiss 
her  hand  again.  But  Kitty,  blushing  and  drawing  away 
her  hand,  said,  with  a  naive  rudeness  for  which  her  mother 
afterward  chided  her  :  — 

"  That  is  not  the  custom  with  us." 

In  Levin's  eyes  she  was  blameworthy  for  permitting 
such  liberties  with  her,  and  still  more  so  for  being  so 
awkward  in  showing  her  disapprobation. 

"  Why  should  you  go  to  bed  ?  "  said  Oblonsky,  who 
had  taken  several  glasses  of  wine  at  dinner,  and  was  in 
his  most  genial  and  poetic  mood.  "  Look,  Kitty,"  said  he, 
pointing  to  the  moon  just  rising  above  the  lindens, 
"  how  lovely  !  Veslovsky,  it  is  just  the  time  for  sere- 
nading. You  know  he  has  a  splendid  voice ;  he  and  I 
tried  some  on  the  way  down.  He  has  brought  two  new 
ballads  with  him.     He  and  Varvara  might  sing  to  us." 

After  they  had  all  left,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  and 
Veslovsky  still  for  a  long  time  walked  up  and  down  in 
the  avenue,  and  their  voices  could  be  heard  as  they 
practised  singing  over  the  new  ballads. 

Hearing  these  voices,  Levin  sat  scowling  in  an  easy- 
chair  in  his  wife's  room,  and  obstinately  refused  to  an 


88  ANNA    KARENINA 

swer  her  questions  as  to  what  was  the  matter  with  him. 
But  at  last  Kitty,  timidly  smiling,  asked  him  :  "  Is  there 
anything  about  Veslovsky  that  has  displeased  you?" 

This  question  loosened  his  tongue,  and  he  told  her  all. 
What  he  said  filled  him  with  vexation,  and  so  he  grew 
still  more  excited. 

He  stood  up  in  front  of  his  wife  with  his  eyes  flashing 
terribly  under  his  contracted  brows  and  his  hands  pressed 
against  his  chest  as  if  exerting  all  his  force  to  restrain 
himself.  His  face  would  have  been  harsh  and  even 
cruel,  had  it  not  expressed  also  such  keen  suffering. 
His  cheeks  trembled  and  his  voice  shook.  "  Don't  think 
me  jealous  ;  the  word  is  disgusting.  I  could  not  be 
jealous  and  at  the  same  time  believe  that....  I  cannot 
tell  you  what  I  feel,  but  it  is  horrible  to  me  ....  I  am  not 
jealous,  but  I  am  hurt,  humiliated,  that  any  one  should 
dare  to  look  at  you  so.".... 

"  Why,  look  at  me  how  ?  "  asked  Kitty,  honestly  try- 
ing to  recall  all  the  remarks  and  incidents  of  the  evening 
and  all  their  possible  significance.  In  the  depth  of  her 
heart  she  had  thought  that  there  was  something  pecul- 
iar at  the  time  when  Veslovsky  followed  her  to  the 
other  end  of  the  table,  but  she  dared  not  acknowledge 
it  even  to  herself,  and  still  more  she  did  not  wish  to 
say  this  to  him  and  thus  increase  his  suffering. 

"  But  what  could  he  find  attractive  in  me  in  my  con- 
dition ?  "  .... 

"  Akh  !  "  he  cried,  clutching  his  head "  You  should 

not   have   said   that That   means,  if   you  had   been 

attractive ...." 

"  Now  stop,  Kostia,  and  listen  to  me  ! "  said  Kitty, 
looking  at  him  with  a  passionately  compassionate  ex- 
pression.    "  What  can  you  be   thinking    about  ?     You 

know  you  are  the  only  person  in  the  world  for  me 

But  you  would  not  wish  me  to  shut  myself  up  away 
from  everybody .-' " 

At  first  she  had  been  wounded  by  this  jealousy  of  his, 
which  spoiled  even  the  slightest  and  most  innocent 
pleasures ;  but  she  was  ready  now  to  renounce,  not 
merely  the  trifling  things,  but  everything,  for  the  sake 


ANNA    KARENINA  89 

of  calming  him  so  as  to  cure  him  of  the  suffering  which 
he  was  enduring. 

"  Try  to  understand  all  the  horrible  absurdity  of  my 
position,"  he  went  on  to  say,  in  a  whisper  of  despair. 
"  He  is  my  guest,  and  if  it  were  not  for  his  silly  gallantry, 
and  his  habit  of  sitting  on  his  leg,  he  has  certainly  done 
nothing  unbecoming;  he  certainly  thinks  himself  irre- 
proachable, and  so  I  am  obliged  to  seem  polite." 

"But,  Kostia,  you  exaggerate  things,"  said  Kitty, 
glad  at  heart  to  see  the  force  of  his  love  for  her,  which 
now  was  expressed  in  his  jealousy. 

"  But  more  terrible  to  me  than  all  this  is  that,  when 
you  are  an  object  of  worship  to  me,  and  we  are  so  happy, 
so  peculiarly  happy,  this  trashy  fellow, ....  but  why  should 
I  call  him  names  ?  He  has  done  nothing  to  me.  But 
why  should  our  happiness  ....  " 

"  Listen,  Kostia ;  I  believe  I  know  what  has  offended 
you." 

"  Why  is  it,  why  is  it .?  " 

"  I  saw  how  you  were  looking  when  we  were  at 
supper." 

"Well,  well?"  asked  Levin,  excitedly. 

She  told  him  what  they  were  talking  about.  And  as 
she  recounted  it,  she  sighed  with  her  emotion.  Levin 
was  silent ;  then,  observing  his  wife's  pale,  excited  face, 
he  clutched  his  head  again. 

"  Katya,"  cried  he,  "  I  have  tired  you  !  Galubchik, 
forgive  me !  This  is  sheer  craziness.  I  am  a  burden 
to  you,  Katya !  I  am  a  fool !  How  could  I  torture 
myself  over  such  a  trifle  !  " 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you." 

"  For  me,  for  me .''  that  I  am  insane ! ....  but  still  it  is 
horrible  to  think  that  any  stranger  might  destroy  our 
happiness ! " 

"  Of  course,  this  is  outrageous  ....  " 

"  No,  to  disprove  this,  I  will  keep  him  with  us  all 
summer,  and  I  '11  spread  myself  in  heaping  favors  on 
him,"  said  Levin,  kissing  his  wife's  hands.  "  You  '11  see. 
And  to-morrow  —  yes,  certainly  to-morrow,  we  will  go  ! ' 


90 


ANNA    KARENINA 


CHAPTER  VIII 


The  next  morning  the  ladies  were  not  yet  up  when 
the  hunting-traps  ^  were  waiting  at  the  door,  and  Laska, 
who  since  dawn  had  reaHzed  that  hunting  was  in  pros- 
pect, and  having  frisked  and  barked  till  she  was  tired, 
was  sitting  up  on  the  katki  next  the  coachman,  looking 
with  excitement  and  disapprobation  at  the  door  at  which 
the  huntsmen  were  so  provokingly  dilatory  in  making 
their  appearance. 

The  first  to  appear  was  Vasenka  Veslovsky,  in  a 
green  blouse,  with  a  cartridge-belt  of  fragrant  Russia 
leather,  shod  in  high  new  boots,  which  reached  half- 
way up  his  thighs,  his  Scotch  cap,  with  ribbons,  on  his 
head,  and  having  an  English  gun  of  rather  recent  style, 
but  without  strap  or  bandoleer. 

Laska  sprang  toward  him  and  welcomed  him,  and  asked 
in  her  way  if  the  others  were  coming ;  but,  receiving 
no  answer,  she  returned  to  her  post,  and  waited  with 
bent  head  and  one  ear  pricked  up.  At  last  the  door 
opened  noisily,  and  let  out  Krak,  the  pointer,  circling 
round  and  leaping  into  the  air,  and  after  him  came  his 
master,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  with  gun  in  hand  and 
cigar  in  mouth. 

"  Down,  Krak,  down  !  "^  exclaimed  Oblonsky,  caress- 
ingly, to  the  dog,  which  leaped  up  to  his  breast  and 
caught  his  paws  on  his  game-pouch.  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch wore  pigskin  sandals,  leggings,  torn  trousers,  and  a 
short  overcoat.  On  his  head  was  the  ruin  of  what  had 
once  been  a  hat ;  but  his  gun  was  of  the  most  modern 
pattern,  and  his  game-bag  as  well  as  his  cartridge-box, 
though  worn,  were  of  the  finest  quality. 

Vasenka  Veslovsky  had  never  before  realized  the  fact 
that  the  height  of  elegance  for  a  huntsman  is  to  be  in  rags, 
but  to  have  the  equipment  of  the  very  finest  quality. 
He  understood  this  now,  as  he  gazed  at  Stepan  Arka- 
dyevitch, whose  elegant,  well-nurtured,  and  aristocratic 

1  Katki  and  telycgas. 

"^  Tubo  is  the  Russian  address  to  the  dog. 


ANNA    KARENINA  91 

figure  was  so  gayly  brilliant,  though  in  rags,  and  he 
made  up  his  mind  to  profit  by  this  example  the  next 
time  he  should  go  hunting. 

"  Well,  where  is  our  host  ?  "  asked  he. 

"  He  has  a  young  wife,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, 
smiling. 

"  And  how  charming  she  is  !  " 

"  He  must  have  gone  in  to  see  her  again,  for  I  saw 
him  all  ready  to  start." 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  was  right.  Levin  had  gone 
back  to  Kitty  to  make  her  say  over  again  that  she 
forgave  him  for  his  absurd  behavior  of  the  evening 
before,  and  to  ask  her  for  Christ's  sake  to  be  more 
careful.  The  most  important  thing  was  for  her  to  keep 
the  children  at  a  distance,  for  they  were  always  likely 
to  run  into  her.  Then  he  needed  once  more  to  receive 
assurance  from  her  that  she  would  not  be  angry  with 
him  because  he  was  going  away  for  two  days,  and  to 
reiterate  his  desire  that  she  should  infallibly  send  him  a 
note  the  next  morning  by  a  mounted  courier,  if  it  were 
only  two  words,  so  that  he  might  know  that  she  was 
comfortable. 

Kitty,  as  always,  had  regretted  the  two  days'  separa- 
tion from  her  husband ;  but  as  she  saw  him  full  of 
animation,  and  seeming  especially  big  and  strong  in  his 
hunting-boots  and  white  blouse,  and  recognized  that,  to 
her  incomprehensible,  enthusiasm  for  hunting,  she  forgot 
her  own  regret  in  her  delight  in  his  happiness,  and  cheer- 
fully bade  him  good-by. 

"  Pardon,  gentlemen  !  "  cried  Levin,  hurrying  down 
to  the  porch.  "  Has  the  breakfast  been  put  up  ?  Why 
is  the  chestnut  horse  on  the  off  side  .-*  Well,  then,  it 
makes  no  difference.     Down,  Laska !  charge  ! 

"  Put  him  among  the  geldings,"  said  he,  addressing  the 
cowherd  who  was  waiting  for  him  on  the  door-steps  with 
a  question  about  the  young  ram.  "  It  is  my  blunder 
■  that  he 's  become  ugly." 

Levin  jumped  down  from  the  katki  in  which  he  had 
already  taken  his  seat,  and  met  a  hired  carpenter  who 
was  just  approaching  the  porch. 


92 


ANNA    KARENINA 


"  Now,  yesterday  evening  you  did  n't  come  to  my 
office  and  here  you  are  delaying  me  :  well,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  You  bid  me  make  a  new  stairway.  Three  steps  will 
have  to  be  added.  And  we  can  get  all  the  lumber  at 
once.     It  would  be  much  more  convenient." 

"You  should  have  listened  to  me,"  said  Levin,  in  a 
tone  of  annoyance.  "  I  said,  '  Fix  the  string-boards,  and 
then  cut  in  the  steps.'  Now,  don't  try  to  mend  them. 
Do  as  I  ordered,  make  a  new  one." 

The  matter  in  question  was  this  :  in  the  wing  which 
was  building,  the  carpenter  had  spoiled  a  staircase  by 
framing  it  separately,  and  not  taking  the  slope  into 
account,  so  that  the  steps  were  all  at  an  angle  when  it 
was  put  into  its  place.  But  now  the  carpenter  wanted 
to  add  three  steps  and  keep  the  same  framework. 

"  It  would  be  much  better...." 

"  But  where  would  it  go,  even  if  you  added  three 
steps .''  " 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  the  carpenter,  with  a  disdainful 
smile.  "  It  would  go  up  to  the  same  landing.  Of  course 
you  'd  pull  it  out  below,"  said  he,  with  a  persuasive  ges- 
ture.    "  It  will  fit,  it  will  surely  fit." 

"But  three  steps  add  to  the  length  of  it  —  how 
would  that  improve  it  ?  " 

After  an  idle  argument  in  which  the  carpenter  kept 
obstinately  repeating  the  same  words.  Levin  took  his 
ramrod  and  proceeded  to  outline  the  plan  of  the  stair- 
way in  the  dust. 

"  Now  do  you  see  ?  " 

"  As  you  command,"  said  the  carpenter,  with  a  sud- 
den light  flashing  into  his  eyes,  and  evidently  at  last 
comprehending  what  Levin  was  driving  at.  "  I  see,  we 
shall  have  to  make  a  new  one." 

"  Well,  then,  do  as  you  were  ordered,"  cried  Levin, 
taking  his  place  in  the  katki  again.  "  Let  us  start ! 
Hold  the  dogs,  Filipp !  " 

Levin,  now  that  he  had  left  behind  him  all  domestic, 
and  business  cares,  felt  such  a  powerful  sense  of  the 
joy  of  living  and  such  expectation  that  he  did  not  care 
to  talk.     Moreover,  he  experienced  that  sense  of  con- 


ANNA    KARENINA  i)2> 

centrated  emotion  which  every  huntsman  feels  as  he 
approaches  the  field  of  his  activity.  If  anything  occu- 
pied him  now,  it  was  the  question  whether  they  should 
find  anything  in  the  Kolpensky  marshes,  and  how  would 
Laska  come  out  in  comparison  with  Krak,  and  what  sort 
of  luck  he  would  that  day  enjoy.  Should  he  do  himself 
credit  as  a  huntsman  before  this  stranger  .?  How  would 
Oblonsky  shoot }     Better  than  he  1 

Oblonsky  was  occupied  with  similar  thoughts  and 
was  not  talkative.  Vasenka  Veslovsky  was  the  only 
voluble  one ;  and  now,  as  Levin  listened  to  him,  he  re- 
proached himself  for  his  injustice  of  the  previous  eve- 
ning. He  was  a  capital  fellow,  simple,  good-natured, 
and  very  gay.  If  Levin  had  known  him  in  his  bachelor 
days,  he  would  have  become  intimate  with  him.  But 
Levin  rather  disliked  his  holiday  view  of  life  and  a 
certain  free  and  easy  elegance.  He  seemed  to  arrogate 
to  himself  a  marked  and  indubitable  superiority  because 
of  his  long  finger-nails  and  his  little  cap  and  everything 
else  corresponding ;  but  this  could  be  condoned  in  view 
of  his  good  nature  and  irreproachable  manners.  He 
pleased  Levin  because  he  was  well  educated,  and  spoke 
French  and  English  admirably,  in  fact,  was  a  man  of 
his  own  walk  in  life. 

Vasenka  was  completely  carried  away  by  the  Step- 
naya  Donskaya  horse  on  the  left  of  the  three-span.  He 
kept  going  into  raptures  over  her.  "  How  splendid  it 
would  be  to  gallop  over  the  steppe  on  a  steed  of  the 
steppe  !  Is  n't  that  so  .''  "  he  cried.  He  imagined  that 
galloping  over  the  steppe  on  such  a  horse  was  some- 
thing wild  and  poetic,  with  no  possibility  of  disappoint- 
ment ;  but  his  innocence,  especially  in  conjunction  with 
his  good  looks,  his  pleasant  smile,  and  his  graceful 
motion,  was  very  captivating.  And  because  he  was 
naturally  sympathetic  to  Levin,  or  else  because  Levin, 
in  consequence  of  his  injustice  to  him  the  evening  be- 
fore, tried  to  find  ail  his  best  qualities,  they  got  on 
famously. 

They  had  gone  scarcely  three  versts  when  Veslovsky 
suddenly  remembered  his  cigars  and  pocket-book,  and 


94 


ANNA    KARENINA 


could  not  tell  whether  he  had  lost  them  or  left  them  on 
his  table.  There  were  three  hundred  and  seventy  rubles 
in  the  pocket-book,  and  he  could  not  leave  them  so. 

"  Do  you  know,  Levin,  I  could  take  your  Cossack 
horse    and   gallop   back   to   the    house.     It   would    be 


elegant!  " 


"Oh,  no,"  replied  Levin,  who  calculated  that  Va- 
senka's  weight  must  be  not  less  than  two  hundred  and 
forty  pounds  ;  "  my  coachman  can  easily  do  the  errand." 

The  coachman  was  sent  back  on  the  Cossack  horse, 
and  Levin  drove  on  with  the  pair. 


CHAPTER   IX 

"  Well,  what 's  our  line  of  march  ?  Give  us  a  good 
idea  of  it,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 

"  This  is  my  plan :  we  will  go  first  to  Gvozdevo. 
Just  this  side  of  Gvozdevo  is  a  snipe  marsh,  but  on  the 
other  side  of  Gvozdevo  extend  splendid  woodcock 
marshes,  and  there  '11  be  game  there.  It 's  hot  now, 
but  toward  the  cool  of  the  day  —  it 's  twenty  versts  from 
here  —  we  will  try  the  field.  We  will  spend  the  night 
there,  and  then  to-morrow  we  will  strike  into  the  great 
marshes." 

"  But  isn't  there  anything  on  the  way  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  it  would  delay  us,  and  it  is  too  hot.  There 
are  two  splendid  little  places,  but  it  is  hardly  worth 
while." 

It  was  Levin's  intention  to  attack  these  places,  but 
as  they  were  near  home,  he  could  go  there  at  any 
time,  and  as  they  were  small  he  thought  that  three 
hunters  were  too  many.  Therefore,  he  prevaricated 
when  he  said  that  it  was  hardly  worth  while. 

When  they  came  up  to  the  little  marsh,  Levin  was 
proposing  to  drive  by ;  but  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  with 
the  experienced  eye  of  a  huntsman,  immediately  saw  the 
water-soaked  ground  which  was  visible  from  the  road. 

"Shan't  we  try  that.''"  he  asked,  pointing  to  the 
marsh. 


ANNA    KARENINA 


95 


"  Levin,  please  stop,  how  splendid !  "  Vasenka  Ves- 
lovsky  began  to  beg,  and  Levin  could  not  well  refuse. 

Before  they  had  fairly  stopped,  the  dogs,  in  eager 
emulation,  darted  into  the  marsh. 

"  Krak  ! ....  Laska  !  "  .... 

The  dogs  turned  back. 

"  There  won't  be  room  enough  for  three.  I  will  wait 
here,"  said  Levin,  hoping  that  they  would  not  find  any- 
thing except  lapwings,  which  flew  up  from  in  front  of 
the  dogs,  and,  as  they  skimmed  away  over  the  marshy 
ground,  uttered  the  most  mournful  cries. 

"No;  come  on.  Levin,  let  us  all  go  together,"  called 
Veslovsky. 

"It's  a  fact,  there  isn't  room.  Back,  Laska,  back. 
You  don't  need  more  than  one  dog,  do  you  ?  " 

Levin  remained  by  the  lineika  and  with  jealousy  in 
his  heart  watched  the  huntsmen,  who  were  tramping 
through  the  whole  bog.  There  was  nothing  in  it,  how- 
ever, except  moor-hens  and  lapwings,  one  of  which  Va- 
senka killed. 

"  Now  you  see  that  I  gav^e  you  good  advice  about  the 
marsh,"  said  Levin.     "  It's  only  a  waste  of  time." 

"  No,  it 's  good  fun  all  the  same  !  Did  you  see  ?  " 
exclaimed  Vasenka,  awkwardly  climbing  into  the  wagon 
with  his  gun  and  his  lapwing  in  his  hands.  "  Did  n't  I 
make  a  stunning  good  shot .''  Well,  will  it  take  long  to 
get  to  the  other  one  ?  " 

Suddenly  the  horses  plunged.  Levin  gave  himself  a 
violent  bump  on  the  head  against  some  one's  gun,  and  a 
shot  went  off.  The  gun  really  went  off  before,  but  it 
seemed  to  Levin  the  other  way.  It  happened  that 
Vasenka  in  uncocking  his  gun  fired  one  barrel.  The 
shot  buried  itself  in  the  ground  and  no  damage  was  done 
to  any  one.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  shook  his  head  and 
laughed  reproachfully  at  Veslovsky.  But  Levin  had 
not  the  heart  to  rebuke  him.  In  the  first  place,  any 
reproach  would  seem  to  be  called  forth  by  a  danger  past 
and  by  the  bump  on  his  forehead  ;  and  in  the  second 
place,  Veslovsky  was  so  innocently  lilled  with  remorse 
and  afterward  laughed  so  good-naturedly  and  so  con- 


96  ANNA   KARENINA 

tagiously  over  their  common  alarm  that  no  one  could 
help  joining  in. 

When  they  reached  the  second  marsh,  which  was  of 
considerable  size  and  sure  to  occupy  much  time,  Levin 
advised  not  getting  out.  But  Veslovsky  again  put  in  his 
entreaties.  Again,  since  the  marsh  was  not  big  enough 
for  three,  Levin,  like  a  hospitable  host,  remained  by  the 
teams.  As  soon  as  they  stopped,  Laska  darted  off  to 
the  tussocks.  Vasenka  Veslovsky  was  the  first  to  follow 
the  dog.  And  before  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  reached  the 
wet  ground  a  snipe  flew  up.  Veslovsky  missed  it,  and 
the  bird  flew  over  into  an  unmown  meadow.  But  this 
snipe  was  predestined  to  be  Veslovsky's.  Krak  again 
pointed  it,  and  Veslovsky  killed  it  and  returned  to  the 
teams. 

"  Now  you  go,  and  I  will  stay  by  the  horses,"  said  he. 

The  huntsman's  fever  had  by  this  time  taken  posses- 
sion of  Levin.  He  turned  the  reins  over  to  Veslovsky 
and  went  into  the  swamp.  Laska,  who  had  been  for 
some  time  pitifully  whining  and  complaining  at  the  in- 
equality of  fate,  darted  toward  the  tussock-filled  bog 
which  Levin  knew  so  well,  and  to  which  Krak  had  not 
yet  found  his  way. 

"  Why  don't  you  hold  her  back  ? "  cried  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch. 

"  She  won't  scare  them  away,"  replied  Levin,  delight- 
ing in  his  dog  and  following  after  her. 

As  Laska  went  forward,  the  nearer  she  came  to  the 
tussocks  the  greater  grew  her  gravity.  A  little  marsh 
bird  only  for  a  second  distracted  her  attention.  She 
made  one  sweep  around  the  tussocks,  then  began  a 
second,  but  suddenly  trembled  and  stood  stock  still. 

"  Come,  Stiva,  come,"  cried  Levin,  feeling  how  his 
_ieart  was  beginning  to  throb,  and  how,  suddenly  as  if 
some  bolt  had  slipped  in  his  ears,  all  sounds,  losing  their 
sense  of  proportion,  disconnectedly  but  distinctly  began 
to  come  to  him.  He  heard  Stepan  Arkadyevitch's  steps, 
distinguishing  them  from  the  distant  stamping  of  horses, 
he  heard  the  crunching  sound  of  a  corner  of  a  tussock 
torn  away  by  the  roots,  and  he  could  distinguish  above 


ANNA    KARENINA  97 

it  the  whir  of  a  woodcock's  wmgs.  He  could  also  hear, 
not  far  behind  him,  a  strange  splashing  in  the  water, 
but  what  it  was  he  could  not  make  out.  Choosing  a 
place  for  his  feet,  he  moved  toward  the  dog. 

"Go  on." 

Not  a  snipe,  but  a  woodcock,  flew  up  from  under  the 
dog's  nose.  Levin  raised  his  gun,  but  at  the  instant  he 
aimed  the  same  noise  of  splashing  in  the  water  grew 
louder  and  nearer,  and  together  with  it  Veslovsky's 
voice  loudly  shouting  something.  Levin  saw  that  he  was 
aiming  too  far  behind  the  woodcock,  but  still  he  fired. 

Turning  round  to  discover  what  made  the  noise,  Levin 
saw  that  the  horses  attached  to  the  katki  were  no  longer 
in  the  road,  but  were  in  the  swamp. 

Veslovsky,  desirous  of  watching  the  shooting,  had 
driven  down  to  the  swamp  and  had  entangled  the  horses. 

"  The  devil  take  him,"  said  Levin  to  himself,  turning 
back  to  the  entangled  horses. 

"  Why  did  you  drive  in  so  far .-"  "  he  asked  dryly  ;  and, 
summoning  the  coachman,  he  began  to  disengage  the 
horses. 

Levin  was  vexed  because  they  had  caused  him  to 
miss  his  shot,  but  still  more  so  because  neither  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch  nor  Veslovsky  would  help  him  to  unhar- 
ness and  get  out  the  team ;  but  the  reason  for  this  was 
that  they  had  not  the  slightest  comprehension  of  the  art 
of  harnessing. 

Not  vouchsafing  Vasenka  a  single  word  in  answer  to 
his  assurance  that  where  he  stood  it  was  perfectly  dry, 
Levin  silently  worked  with  the  coachman  to  unhitch  the 
horses.  But  afterward,  warming  up  to  the  work,  and 
noticing  how  zealously  and  assiduously  Veslovsky  dragged 
at  the  katki  by  its  side  and  even  broke  a  part  of  it  off. 
Levin  blamed  himself  because,  under  the  influence  of  the 
feeling  which  he  had  had  the  evening  before,  he  had 
been  too  cool  toward  Veslovsky,  and  he  tried  by  especial 
friendliness  to  atone  for  his  curtness. 

When  everything  was  brought  to  order  again  and  the 
teams  were  on  the  highway.  Levin  gave  orders  to  get 
the  luncheon  ready. 

VOL.  III.  —  7 


98  ANNA    KARENINA 

'*  Bon  appetit,  bonne  conscience.  Ce  poulet  va  tombet 
jiisqiian  fond  de  mes  bottes,"  exclaimed  Vasenka,  grow- 
ing lively  again,  and  employing  a  quaint  French  proverb, 
as  he  devoured  his  second  chicken.  "  Now  our  misfor- 
tunes are  ended ;  now  everything  will  go  on  famously. 
Only  as  a  punishment  for  my  sin  I  must  certainly  sit 
on  the  driver's  box.  Isn't  that  so .''  hey  .-^  —  No,  no, 
I  am  a  born  Automedon.  Just  see  how  I  will  tool  you 
along,"  he  insisted,  not  letting  go  the  reins  when  Levin 
asked  him  to  give  up  to  the  coachman.  "  No,  I  must 
atone  for  my  sin,  and  I  like  it  immensely  on  the  box." 
And  he  drove. 

Levin  was  somewhat  afraid  that  he  would  tire  out  the 
horses,  especially  the  chestnut  on  the  left,  which  he 
could  not  control ;  but  reluctantly  he  gave  in  to  his 
gayety,  listened  to  the  love-songs  which  Veslovsky,  sit- 
ting on  the  box,  sang  all  the  way,  or  to  his  stories  and 
personation  of  an  Englishman  driving  a  four-in-hand, 
and  after  they  had  enjoyed  their  luncheon  they  reached 
the  marshes  of  Gvozdevo  in  the  gayest  possible  spirits. 


CHAPTER   X 

Vasenka  drove  the  horses  so  furiously  that  they 
reached  the  marshes  too  early  and  it  was  still  hot.  On 
reaching  the  important  marsh,  the  real  goal  of  their  jour- 
ney, Levin  could  not  help  wondering  how  he  might  rid 
himself  of  Vasenka  and  so  get  along  without  impediment. 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch  had  evidently  the  same  desire,  and 
Levin  could  read  in  his  face  that  expression  of  anxiety 
which  a  genuine  huntsman  always  betrays  before  he 
goes  out  on  the  chase  —  he  also  detected  z.  certain  good- 
natured  slyness  characteristic  of  him. 

"  How  shall  we  go  in  .?  I  can  see  the  marsh  is  ex- 
cellent, and  there  are  the  hawks,"  said  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch, pointing  to  two  big  birds  circling  over  the  tall 
grass.     "  Where  hawks  are  there  is  sure  to  be  game !  " 

"Well,  do  you  see,  gentlemen.^"  said  Levin,  with  a 
rather  gloomy  expression,  pulling  up  his  boots  and  con 


ANNA    KARENINA  99 

tempiating  the  caps  on  his  fowling-piece.  "  Do  you  see 
that  tall  grass  ?  "  He  pointed  to  an  islet  shading  into  a 
black  green  in  the  midst  of  the  wet  meadow  which,  al- 
ready half  mown,  extended  along  the  right  bank  of  the 
river.  "  The  marsh  begins  here  directly  in  front  of  you 
—  where  it  is  so  green.  From  there  it  extends  to  the 
right  where  those  horses  are  going ;  there  are  the  tus- 
socks and  you  will  find  snipe  there,  and  so  on  around 
this  high  grass  clear  up  to  the  alders  and  the  mill  itself. 
That  direction,  you  see  where  the  ground  is  overflowed, 
that  is  the  best  place.  I  've  killed  as  many  as  seven- 
teen woodcock  there.  We  will  separate  with  the  two 
dogs  in  different  directions,  and  then  we  will  meet  at  the 
mill." 

"Well,  who  will  go  to  the  right,  who  to  the  left.''" 
asked  Stepan  Arkadyevitch.  "  There  is  more  room  to 
the  right ;  you  two  go  that  way  and  I  will  take  the  left," 
said  he,  with  pretended  indifference. 

"  Capital,  we  will  shoot  more  than  he  does.  Come 
on,  come  on,  come  on,"  cried  Veslovsky. 

Levin  saw  that  he  was  in  for  it,  so  they  started  off 
together. 

As  soon  as  they  struck  into  the  marsh  the  dogs  began 
to  hunt  round  and  darted  off  for  the  swamp.  Levin 
well  knew  what  that  careful  and  indeterminate  manoeuver 
of  Laska's  meant;  he  also  knew  the  place,  and  he  was 
on  the  lookout  for  a  bevy  of  woodcock. 

"Veslovsky,  come  in  line,  in  line,"  he  cried  in  a  voice 
of  anguish  to  his  companion,  who  insisted  in  falling  be- 
hind. Since  the  accidental  discharge  of  the  weapon  at 
the  Kolpensky  marsh,  Levin  could  not  help  taking  an 
interest  in  the  direction  in  which  Veslovsky's  gun-barrel 
was  pointing. 

"  Now,  I  won't  bother  you,  don't  worry  about  me  !  " 

But  Levin  could  not  help  worrying,  and  he  remem- 
bered Kitty's  words  as  she  said  good-by  to  him  :  "  Look 
out  that  you  don't  shoot  one  another." 

Closer  and  closer  ran  the  dogs,  avoiding  each  other, 
each  following  her  own  scent ;  the  expectation  of  start- 
ing up  a  woodcock  was  so  strong  that  the  squeak  of 


loo  ANNA   KARENINA 

his  heel  as  he  lifted  it  out  of  the  mud  seemed  to  Levin 
like  the  cry  of  the  bird ;  he  clutched  and  squeezed  the 
butt  of  his  gun. 

Bang !  Bang  !  A  gun  went  off  directly  behind  his 
ear. 

It  was  Vasenka  shooting  at  a  flock  of  ducks  which 
were  splashing  about  in  the  swamp,  and  alighted  far 
away  from  the  huntsmen  in  an  irregular  line.  Before 
Levin  had  a  chance  to  glance  round,  a  woodcock 
drummed,  —  another,  a  third,  and  half  a  dozen  more 
flew  up  one  after  the  other. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  shot  one  at  the  very  instant  he 
was  about  beginning  his  zigzags,  and  the  woodcock  fell 
in  a  heap  in  the  swamp.  Oblonsky  took  his  time  in 
aiming  at  another  which  was  flying  low  toward  the  high 
grass,  and  simultaneously  with  the  flash  the  bird  fell 
and  it  could  be  seen  skipping  from  the  mown  grass, 
flapping  its  white  uninjured  wing. 

Levin  was  not  so  fortunate ;  he  shot  at  too  close 
range  for  the  first  woodcock,  and  missed  ;  he  was  about 
to  follow  after  it,  but  just  as  it  was  rising  again,  another 
flew  up  from  almost  under  him  and  diverted  his  atten- 
tion, causing  him  to  miss  again. 

While  they  were  reloading,  still  another  woodcock 
flew  up,  and  Veslovsky,  who  had  got  his  gun  loaded 
first,  fired  two  charges  of  small  shot  into  the  water. 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch  picked  up  his  woodcock,  and  looked 
at  Levin  with  flashing  eyes. 

"  And  now  let  us  separate,"  said  he,  and  limping  with 
his  left  leg,  and  holding  his  gun  ready  cocked  and  whis- 
tling to  his  dog,  he  started  off  by  himself.  Levin  and 
Veslovsky  took  the  other  direction. 

It  always  happened  with  Levin  that  when  his  first 
shots  were  unsuccessful,  he  grew  excited,  lost  his  temper, 
and  shot  badly  the  rest  of  the  day.  So  it  was  in  the 
present  instance.  The  woodcock  were  abundant;  they 
kept  flying  up  from  before  the  dogs,  and  from  under 
the  huntsmen's  feet,  and  Levin  might  have  easily  re- 
trieved his  fortunes  ;  but  the  longer  he  hunted,  the  more 
he  disgraced  himself  before  Veslovsky,  who  kept  mer 


ANNA   KARENINA  loi 

ril)  firing  recklessly,  never  killing  anything  and  never  in 
the  slightest  degree  abashed  at  his  ill  luck.  Levin 
moved  forward  hotly,  growing  more  and  more  excited, 
and  finally  he  came  not  to  have  much  hope  of  bringing 
down  his  game.  Laska  seemed  to  understand  this  state 
of  things.  She  began  to  follow  the  scent  more  lazily, 
and  looked  at  the  huntsmen  with  almost  an  air  of  doubt 
and  reproach.  Shot  followed  shot.  The  gunpowder- 
smoke  hung  round  the  sportsmen,  but  in  the  great  wide 
meshes  of  the  hunting-bag  lay  only  three  light  little 
woodcock.  And  of  those  one  was  killed  by  Veslovsky, 
and  one  of  them  they  both  brought  down. 

Meantime  on  the  other  side  of  the  swamp  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch's  shots  were  heard,  not  very  frequently, 
but,  as  it  seemed  to  Levin,  very  significantly,  and  at 
almost  each  one  he  would  hear  him  cry :  — 

"  Krak,  Krak,  apportcT 

This  still  more  excited  Levin.  The  woodcock  kept 
flying  up  into  the  air  over  the  high  grass.  The  drum- 
ming on  the  ground  and  the  cries  of  the  birds  in  the  air 
continued  incessantly  on  all  sides,  and  the  woodcock, 
which  flew  up  before  them  and  swept  through  the  air, 
kept  settling  down  again  in  front  of  the  huntsmen.  Now 
instead  of  two  hawks  there  were  dozens  of  them  scream- 
ing over  the  marsh. 

After  they  had  shot  over  the  larger  half  of  the  swamp, 
Levin  and  Veslovsky  directed  their  steps  to  a  place 
where  there  were  alternating  strips  of  meadow-land, 
which  the  peasants  were  accustomed  to  mow.  Half  of 
these  strips  had  already  been  mown. 

Although  there  was  less  hope  of  finding  game  where 
the  grass  was  tall  than  where  it  had  been  cut.  Levin 
had  agreed  with  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  to  join  him  there, 
and  so  he  proceeded  with  his  companion  across  the  mown 
and  unmown  strips. 

"  Hi !  sportsmen,"  cried  a  muzhik,  who  with  several 
others  were  sitting  around  an  unharnessed  cart.  "  Come 
and  have  a  bite  with  us.     We  '11  give  you  some  wine.". 

Levin  looked  round. 

"  Come  on,  we  've  plenty,"  shouted   a  jolly  bearded 


I02  ANNA    KARENINA 

muzhik  with  a  red  face,  displaying  his  white  teeth  and 
holding  up  a  green  bottle  which  glittered  in  the  sun. 

"  Qit  est-cc  qitils  disent  ?  "  asked  Veslovsky. 

"  They  invite  us  to  drink  some  vodka  with  them. 
They  have  probably  just  finished  their  meadows.  I  'd 
go  if  I  were  you,"  said  Levin,  not  without  craftiness,  for 
he  hoped  that  Veslovsky  would  be  tempted  by  the 
vodka  and  would  go  for  it. 

"  Why  should  they  treat  us  .''  " 

"  Oh,  they  are  probably  having  a  jollification.  Really, 
you  had  better  go.     It  will  interest  you." 

"  Allans,  c' est  curieuxT 

"  Go  ahead,  go,  you  will  find  the  road  to  the  mill," 
cried  Levin  ;  and,  looking  round,  he  saw  to  his  delight 
that  Veslovsky,  stooping  over  and  dragging  one  leg 
after  the  other,  and  carrying  his  musket  on  his  out- 
stretched arm,  was  making  his  way  from  the  swamp 
toward  the  peasants. 

"  You  come  too,"  cried  the  muzhik  to  Levin.  "  Don't 
be  afeared,^  we  '11  give  you  a  tart." 

Levin  felt  a  strong  inclination  to  drink  a  glass  of 
vodka  and  to  eat  a  piece  of  bread.  He  was  tired  and 
could  hardly  lift  his  feet  out  of  the  bog,  and  for  a  moment 
he  hesitated.  But  the  dog  was  pointing,  and  imme- 
diately all  his  weariness  vanished,  and  he  lightly  made 
his  way  over  the  marsh  toward  the  dog.  The  woodcock 
flew  from  under  his  feet ;  he  fired  and  brought  it  down. 
The  dog  pointed  again  —  pil !  From  in  front  of  the 
dog  another  arose.  Levin  blazed  away.  But  the  day 
was  unfortunate  ;  he  missed,  and  when  he  looked  for 
the  one  he  had  killed,  it  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  He 
searched  all  through  the  tall  grass,  but  Laska  had  no 
faith  that  her  master  had  killed  it,  and  when  he  sent 
her  to  find  it,  she  pretended  to  circle  round  but  did  not 
really  search. 

Even  without  Vasenka,  on  whom  Levin  had  laid  the 
blame  for  his  bad  luck,  there  was  no  improvement. 
There  also  woodcock  abounded,  but  Levin  missed  shot 
after  shot. 

^  He  says  niahos'  for  mhos',  nichavo  for  nichc7)o. 


ANNA    KARENINA  103 

The  slanting  rays  of  the  sun  were  still  hot ;  his  clothes, 
wet  through  with  perspiration,  stuck  to  his  body  ;  his 
left  boot,  full  of  water,  was  heavy  and  made  a  sucking 
noise ;  over  his  face,  begrimed  with  gunpowder,  the  per- 
spiration ran  in  drops ;  there  was  a  bitter  taste  in  his 
mouth  ;  his  nose  was  filled  with  the  odor  of  smoke  and 
of  the  bog ;  in  his  ears  rang  the  incessant  cries  of  the 
woodcock;  his  gun-barrels  were  so  hot  that  he  could 
not  touch  them  ;  his  heart  beat  with  loud  and  rapid 
strokes,  his  hands  trembled  with  excitement,  his  weary 
legs  kept  stumbling  and  catching  in  the  roots  and  tus- 
socks :  but  still  he  kept  on  shooting.  At  last,  having 
made  a  disgraceful  failure,  he  threw  down  his  gun  and  cap. 

"No,  I  must  get  my  wits  back,"  he  said  to  himself; 
and,  picking  up  his  gun  and  cap,  he  called  Laska  to  heel, 
and  quitted  the  swamp.  As  he  came  out  on  the  dry 
ground  he  sat  down  on  a  tussock,  took  off  his  boots  and 
stockings,  poured  out  the  water,  then  he  went  back  to 
the  swamp,  took  a  long  drink  of  the  boggy-smelling 
water,  soaked  his  hot  gun-barrels,  and  washed  his  face 
and  hands.  After  he  had  cooled  off,  he  again  went 
down  to  the  place  where  he  would  find  the  woodcock, 
and  he  made  up  his  mind  not  to  lose  his  self-control 
again.  He  meant  to  be  calm,  but  it  was  the  same  as 
before.  His  finger  would  press  the  trigger  before  he 
had  taken  fair  aim  at  the  bird.  Indeed,  it  went  from 
bad  to  worse. 

He  had  only  five  birds  in  his  game-bag  when  he 
quitted  the  marsh  and  went  to  the  alder-wood  where  he 
had  agreed  to  meet  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 

Before  he  caught  sight  of  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  he 
saw  his  dog  Krak,  all  black  with  the  marsh  slime,  and 
with  an  air  of  triumph  as  he  came  leaping  out  from  under 
the  up-turned  root  of  an  alder  and  began  to  snuff  at 
Laska.  Then  appeared  Stepan  Arkadyevitch's  stately 
figure  in  the  shade  of  the  alders.  He  came  along,  still 
limping,  but  with  flushed  face,  all  covered  with  perspi- 
ration and  with  his  collar  flung  open. 

"  Well,  how  is  it }  Have  you  killed  many  ?  "  he  cried, 
with  a  gay  smile. 


I04  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  How  is  it  with  you  ?  "  asked  Levin.  But  there  was 
no  need  of  asking,  because  he  could  see  his  overflowing 
game-bag. 

"  Oh,  just  a  trifle."  He  had  fourteen  birds.  "What 
a  splendid  marsh.  Veslovsky  must  have  bothered  you. 
Two  can't  hunt  well  with  the  same  dog,"  said  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch,  to  soften  the  effect  of  his  triumph. 


CHAPTER   XI 

When  Levin  and  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  reached  the 
peasant's  izba,  where  Levin  always  stopped  when  he 
was  out  hunting,  Veslovsky  was  already  there.  He  was 
laughing  his  merrily  contagious  laugh,  sitting  in  the 
middle  of  the  hut  and  clinging  with  both  hands  to  a 
bench  from  which  a  soldier,  the  brother  of  their  host,  was 
pulling  him  in  his  efforts  to  haul  off  his  muddy  boots. 

"I  have  only  just  got  here.  lis  ont  etc  charmattts. 
Imagine  it  —  they  gave  me  plenty  to  eat  and  drink. 
What  bread,  't  was  marvelous.  Delicieux.  And  such 
vodka  I  never  tasted  !  And  they  utterly  refused  to  take 
any  payment.  They  kept  saying  :  '  Drink  it  down,'  or 
something  like  that." 

"  Why  should  they  take  money  .-'  They  regarded  you 
as  a  guest.  Do  you  suppose  they  had  vodka  to  sell  .-* " 
asked  the  soldier,  who  at  last  succeeded  in  pulling  off 
the  wet  boot  together  with  the  mud-stained  stocking. 

Notwithstanding  the  dirtiness  of  the  izba,  which  the 
huntsmen  and  their  dogs  had  tracked  all  over  with  mud, 
notwithstanding  the  smell  of  bog  and  gunpowder  with 
which  it  was  filled,  and  notwithstanding  the  absence  of 
knives  and  forks,  the  three  men  drank  their  tea  and  ate 
their  luncheon  with  appetites  such  as  only  hunting  pro- 
duces. After  they  had  washed  up  and  cleansed  off  the 
mud,  they  went  to  a  hay-loft  where  the  coachman  had 
prepared  them  beds. 

Although  it  was  already  dark,  not  one  of  the  huntsmen 
felt  any  inclination  to  go  to  sleep.  After  they  had  in- 
dulged in  various  recollections  and  stories  of  shooting 


ANNA   KARENINA  105 

of  dogs,  and  of  previous  expeditions,  the  conversation 
turned  on  a  theme  which  interested  them  all.  As  it 
happened,  Vasenka  kept  going  into  raptures  over  the 
fascination  of  this  their  camp  and  the  fragrance  of  the 
hay,  and  the  charm  of  the  broken  telyega  —  it  seemed 
to  him  to  be  broken  because  the  front  part  was  taken 
off  —  and  about  the  hospitality  of  the  muzhiks,  who  had 
given  him  vodka  to  drink,  and  about  the  dogs,  which 
were  lying  each  at  his  master's  feet. 

Then  Obion  sky  gave  an  account  of  a  charming  meet 
which  he  had  attended  the  summer  before  at  the  place  of  a 
man  named  Malthus,  who  was  a  well-known  railway  mag- 
nate. Stepan  Arkadyevitch  told  what  wonderful  marshes 
and  game  preserves  Malthus  rented  in  the  govern- 
ment of  Tver,  what  equipages,  dog-carts,  and  wagonettes 
were  provided  for  the  sportsmen,  and  how  a  great  break- 
fast tent  was  carried  to  the  marshes  and  pitched  there. 

"  I  can't  comprehend  you,"  exclaimed  Levin,  raising 
himself  on  his  hay.  "  I  should  think  such  people  would 
be  repulsive  to  you.  I  can  understand  that  a  breakfast 
with  Lafitte  might  be  very  delightful ;  but  is  n't  such 
luxury  revolting  to  you.''  All  these  people,  like  all 
monopolists,  acquire  money  in  such  a  way  that  they  gain 
the  contempt  of  people  ;  they  scorn  this  contempt  and 
then  use  their  ill-gotten  gains  to  buy  off  this  contempt !  " 

"  You  're  perfectly  right,"  assented  Veslovsky.  "  Per- 
fectly. Of  course  Oblonsky  does  this  out  of  bonJioviic, 
but  others  say,  '  Oblonsky  goes  there.'  "  .... 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  —  Levin  perceived  that  Oblonsky 
smiled  as  he  said  this.  "  I  simply  consider  that  this 
man  is  no  more  dishonorable  than  any  other  of  our  rich 
merchants  or  nobles.  They  all  have  got  their  mone}' 
by  hard  work  and  by  their  brains." 

"  Yes,  but  what  kind  of  hard  work  }  Is  it  hard  work 
to  secure  a  concession  and  then  farm  it  out .'' " 

"  Of  course  it  is  hard  work.  Hard  work  in  this  sense, 
that  if  it  were  not  for  such  men,  then  we  should  have 
no  railways." 

"  But  it  is  not  hard  work  such  as  the  muzhik  or  the 
student  has." 


io6  ANNA   KARENINA 

"  Agreed,  but  it  is  work  in  this  sense,  that  it  is  a  form 
of  activity  which  gives  us  results  —  railways.  But  per- 
haps you  argue  that  railways  are  useless." 

"  No ;  but  that  is  another  question.  I  am  willing  to 
acknowledge  that  they  are  useful.  But  all  gains  that 
are  disproportionate  to  the  amount  of  labor  expended  are 
dishonorable." 

"  But  who  is  to  determine  the  suitabiUty  ?  " 

"  Property  acquired  by  any  dishonest  way,  by  craft," 
said  Levin,  feeling  that  he  could  not  very  well  make  the 
distinction  between  honorable  and  dishonorable.  "  For 
example,  the  money  made  by  stock-gambling,"  he  went 
on  to  say,  "  that  is  bad,  and  so  are  the  gains  made  by 
fortunes  acquired  without  labor,  as  it  used  to  be  with 
the  speculators  in  monopolies ;  only  the  form  has  been 
changed.  Le  roi  est  mort,  vive  le  roi!  We  had  only  just 
done  away  with  brandy-farming  when  the  railways  and 
stock-gambling  came  in  ;  it  is  all  money  acquired  with- 
out work." 

"  Yes,  that  may  be  very  wise  and  ingenious  reasoning. 
—  Lie  down,  Krak,"  cried  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  address- 
ing the  dog,  which  was  licking  his  fur  and  tossing  up 
the  hay.  Oblonsky  was  evidently  convinced  of  the  cor- 
rectness of  his  theory,  and  consequently  argued  calmly 
and  dispassionately.  "  But  you  do  not  make  the  dis- 
tinctions clear  between  honest  and  dishonest  work.  Is 
it  dishonest  when  I  receive  a  higher  salary  than  my 
head  clerk,  although  he  understands  the  business  better 
than  I  do  .-•  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Well,  I  will  tell  you  one  thing :  what  you  receive 
for  your  work  on  your  estate  is  —  let  us  say  —  five 
thousand  above  your  expenses ;  but  this  muzhik,  our  host, 
hard  as  he  works,  does  not  get  more  than  fifty  rubles, 
and  this  disparity  is  just  as  dishonorable  as  that  I  re- 
ceive more  than  my  head  clerk  or  that  Malthus  receives 
more  than  a  railway  engineer.  On  the  contrary,  it  seems 
to  me  that  the  hostility  shown  by  society  to  these  men 
arises  from  envy."  .... 

"No,  that  is  unjust,"  said  Veslovsky  ;  "it  cannot  be 


ANNA    KARENINA  io7 

envy,  and  there  is  something  unfair  in  this  state  of 
things." 

"  Excuse  me,"  persisted  Levin.  "You  say  it  is  unfair 
for  me  to  receive  five  thousand  while  the  muzhik  gets 
only  fifty ;  you  're  right.  It  is  unfair.  I  feel  it, 
but...." 

"  The  distinction  holds  throughout.  Why  do  we  eat, 
drink,  hunt,  waste  our  time,  while  he  is  forever  and  ever 
at  work  .''  "  said  Vasenka  Veslovsky,  who  was  evidently 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life  thinking  clearly  on  this  ques- 
tion, and  therefore  was  willing  to  be  frank. 

"  Yes,  you  feel  so,  but  you  don't  give  your  estate  up 
to  the  muzhik,"  said  Stepan  Arkady evitch,  not  sorry  of 
a  chance  to  tease  Levin. 

Of  late  there  had  arisen  between  the  two  brothers-in- 
law  a  secretly  hostile  relationship  ;  since  they  had  mar- 
ried sisters,  a  sort  of  rivalry  existed  between  them  as  to 
which  of  them  had  the  best  way  of  living,  and  now  this 
hostility  expressed  itself  by  the  conversation  taking  a 
personal  turn. 

"  I  do  not  give  it  because  no  one  demands  this  of  me, 
and  even  if  I  wanted  to,  I  could  not,"  replied  Levin. 

"  Give  it  to  this  muzhik ;  he  would  not  refuse  it." 

"  But  how  could  I  give  it  to  him .-'  Should  I  come 
with  him  and  sign  the  deed  .-*  " 

"  I  don't  know ;  but  if  you  are  convinced  that  you 
have  not  the  right ....  " 

"  I  am  not  altogether  convinced.  On  the  contrary  I 
feel  that  I  have  no  right  to  give  it  away,  that  I  have 
certain  obligations  both  to  the  land  and  to  my  family." 

"  No,  excuse  me ;  if  you  consider  that  this  inequality 
is  unjust,  then  why  don't  you  do  so .''  " 

"  I  do  it,  only  in  a  negative  way,  in  the  sense  that 
I  do  not  try  to  increase  the  discrepancy  that  exists  be- 
tween him  and  me." 

"  No,  but  that  is  a  paradox,  if  you  will  allow  me  to 
say  so." 

"  Yes,  that  is  a  sort  of  sophistical  statement,"  averred 
Veslovsky.  —  "  Ho  !  friend,"  ^  he  exclaimed,  addressing 

1  Khozatn. 


io8  ANNA    KARENINA 

their  host,  who  had  just  then  come  into  the  loft,  mak- 
ing the  door  creak  on  its  hinges,  "  are  n't  you  asleep 
yet?" 

"  No,  how  can  one  sleep  ?  But  I  supposed  you 
gentlemen  were  asleep  —  still,  I  heard  talking.  I  wanted 
to  get  a  hook.  —  Will  she  bite?"  he  added,  carefully 
slipping  along  in  his  bare  feet. 

"  But  where  do  you  sleep  ?" 

"  We  are  on  night  duty." 

"  Oh,  what  a  night,"  exclaimed  Veslovsky,  catching 
a  glimpse  of  the  edge  of  the  izba  and  the  unharnessed 
wagons  in  the  faint  light  of  the  west  through  the  now 
widely  opened  door.  "  Just  listen  to  those  women's 
voices  singing ;  it  is  not  bad  at  all.  Who  is  singing, 
friend  ?  "  said  he,  addressing  the  muzhik. 

"  Oh,  those  are  the  girls  from  the  farm,  singing  to- 
gether." 

"  Come,  let 's  go  out  and  take  a  walk !  We  shall 
never  go  to  sleep.     Come  on,  Oblonsky." 

"What's  the  use?"  said  Oblonsky,  stretching,  "it's 
more  comfortable  here." 

"Well,  then,  I'll  go  alone,"  exclaimed  Veslovsky, 
jumping  up  eagerly  and  putting  on  his  shoes  and 
stockings.  "  Good-by  —  da  svidanya  —  gentlemen.  /  If 
there  's  any  fun,  I  will  come  and  xall  you.  You  have 
given   me  good  hunting  and  I  won't  forget  you." 

"  He  's  a  splendid  young  fellow,"  said  Oblonsky,  after 
Veslovsky  had  gone  out  and  the  muzhik  had  shut  the 
door  again. 

"Yes,  he  is,"  replied  Levin,  still  continuing  to  think 
of  what  they  had  been  talking  about.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  he  had  clearly,  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  uttered 
his  thoughts  and  feelings,  and  yet  these  men,  who  were 
by  no  means  stupid  or  insincere,  agreed  in  declaring 
that  he  indulged  in  sophistries.     This  confused  him. 

"This  is  the  way  of  it,  my  friend,"  said  Oblonsky. 
"  One  of  two  things  must  be  :  either  you  must  agree  that 
the  present  order  of  society  is  all  right,  and  then  stand  up 
for  your  rights,  or  confess  that  you  enjoyunfair  privileges, 
as  I  do,  and  get  all  the  good  out  of  them  that  you  can." 


ANNA   KARENINA  109 

"  No ;  if  this  was  unfair,  you  could  not  get  any  enjoy- 
ment out  of  these  advantages ....  at  least  I  could  not. 
With  me  the  main  thing  would  be  to  feel  that  I  was  not 
to  blame." 

"  After  all,  why  should  w^e  not  go  out,"  said  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch,  evidently  growing  tired  of  this  discus- 
sion. "  You  see  we  are  not  going  to  sleep.  Come  on, 
let 's  go  out." 

Levin  made  no  reply.  What  he  had  said  in  their 
conversation  about  his  doing  right  only  in  a  negative 
sense  occupied  his  mind.  "  Can  one  be  right  only  in 
a  negative  way .''  "  he  asked  himself. 

"  How  strong  the  odor  of  the  fresh  hay  is,"  said 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  as  he  got  up.  "  It  is  impossible 
to  go  to  sleep.  Vasenka  is  hatching  some  scheme  out 
there.  Don't  you  hear  them  laughing,  and  his  voice.-* 
Won't  you  come  .-*     Come  on." 

"  No,  I  am  not  going,"  said  Levin. 

"  Is  this  also  from  principle  ?"  asked  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch, with  a  smile,  as  he  groped  round  in  the  dark- 
ness for  his  cap. 

"  No,  not  from  principle,  but  why  should  I  go  .""  " 

"  Do  you  know  you  are  laying  up  misfortune  for 
yourself.''"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  having  found  his 
cap,  and  getting  up. 

"  Why  so  ?  " 

"  Don't  I  see  how  you  are  giving  in  to  your  wife  .-* 
I  heard  how  much  importance  you  attached  to  the  ques- 
tion whether  she  approved  of  your  going  off  for  a 
couple  of  days'  hunting.  That  is  very  well  as  an  idyl, 
but  it  does  n't  work  for  a  whole  lifetime.  A  man  ought 
to  be  independent ;  he  has  his  own  masculine  interests. 
A  man  must  be  manly,"  said  Oblonsky,  opening  the 
door. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ....  going  and  flirting  with  the 
farm  girls  ?  "  asked  Levin. 

"  Why  not  go,  if  there  's  fun  in  it .''  Ca  ne  tire  pas  a 
consequence.  My  wife  would  not  be  any  the  worse  off 
for  it,  and  it  affords  me  amusement.  The  main  thing 
is  the  sanctity  of  the  home.     There  should  not  be  any 


fio  ANNA    KARENINA 

trouble  at  home.  But  there  is  no  need  of  a  man's  tying 
his  hands." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  Levin,  dryly,  and  he  turned  over 
on  his  side.  "To-morrow  I  must  start  early  and  I  shan't 
wake  any  one,  and  I  shall  start  at  daybreak." 

'' Messiejirs,  vencz  77/6',"  called  Vasenka,  returning. 
"  Charmante  !  I  have  discovered  her!  Charmantc !  A 
perfect  Gretchen,  and  she  and  I  have  already  scraped 
acquaintance.  Truly  she  is  mighty  pretty,"  he  cried, 
with  such  an  expression  of  satisfaction  that  any  one 
would  think  that  she  had  been  made  for  his  especial 
benefit,  and  that  he  was  satisfied  with  the  work  of  the 
one  who  had  prepared  her  for  him. 

Levin  pretended  to  be  asleep,  but  Oblonsky,  putting 
on  his  slippers  and  lighting  a  cigar,  left  the  barn  and 
soon  their  voices  died  away. 

It  was  long  before  Levin  could  go  to  sleep.  He 
heard  his  horses  munchuig  their  hay,  then  the  muzhik 
setting  out  with  his  eldest  son  to  watch  the  animals  in 
the  pasture,  then  the  soldier  going  to  bed  on  the  other 
side  of  the  loft  with  his  nephew,  the  youngest  son  of 
their  host ;  he  heard  the  little  boy  in  a  low  voice  telling 
his  uncle  his  impressions  regarding  the  dogs,  which  to 
him  seemed  terrible  and  monstrous  beasts  ;  then  the  boy 
asking  what  these  dogs  caught,  and  the  soldier  in  a 
hoarse  and  sleepy  voice  teUing  him  that  the  next  day  the 
huntsmen  would  go  to  the  swamp  and  would  fire  off  their 
guns;  and  then,  the  boy  still  continuing  to  ply  him  with 
questions,  the  soldier  hushed  him  up,  saying,  "  Go  to 
sleep,  Vaska,  go  to  sleep,  and  you  will  see,"  and  soon 
the  man  began  to  snore  and  all  became  quiet.  All  that 
was  heard  was  the  neighing  of  the  horses  and  the  cries 
of  the  woodcock. 

"  Why  is  this  simply  revolting }  "  he  asked  himself. 
"  Well,  what 's  to  be  done  }  It  is  not  my  fault."  And 
he  began  to  think  of  the  morrow. 

"  To-morrow  I  will  start  early  in  the  morning,  and  I 
will  take  it  on  myself  not  to  get  excited.  I  will  bring 
down  some  woodcock.  And  there  are  plenty  of  snipe ! 
And  when  I  get  back,  there  '11  be  a  letter  from  Kitty. 


ANNA    KARENINA  in 

Yes,  perhaps    Stiva  is  right ;  I   am  not  manly  toward 

her;   I   am  too  much   under  my  wife's  thumb But 

what  is  to  be  done  about  it  ?     This  also  is  revolting." 

T.hrough  his  dream  he  heard  Veslovsky  and  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch  gayly  talking  and  laughing.  For  an 
instant  he  opened  his  eyes.  The  moon  had  risen,  and 
through  the  open  doors  he  saw  them  standing  there  in 
the  bright  moonlight,  and  talking.  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch was  saying  something  about  the  freshness  of  a 
young  girl,  comparing  her  to  a  walnut  just  out  of  its 
shell,  and  Veslovsky  laughing  his  contagious  laugh, 
made  some  reply,  evidently  repeating  the  words  spoken 
by  some  muzhik,  "  You  'd  better  be  going  home." 

Levin '  spoke  through  his  dream,  "  Gentlemen,  to- 
morrow morning  at  daybreak." 


CHAPTER   XII 

Waking  at  earliest  dawn.  Levin  tried  to  wake  his 
companions.  Vasenka,  lying  on  his  stomach,  with  one 
leg  in  a  stocking,  was  sleeping  so  soundly  that  it  was 
impossible  to  get  any  reply  from  him.  Oblonsky,  only 
half  awake,  refused  to  start  out  so  early.  And  even 
Laska,  sleeping  curled  up  in  a  round  ball  at  the  edge 
of  the  hay,  got  up  reluctantly,  and  lazily  stretched  out 
and  straightened  her  hind  legs,  one  after  the  other. 
Levin,  putting  on  his  boots,  took  his  gun  and  cautiously 
opening  the  creaking  door  of  the  shed,  went  outdoors. 
The  coachmen  were  sleeping  near  the  wagons ;  the 
horses  were  dozing.  Only  one  sheep  was  drowsily  eat- 
ing with  his  nose  in  the  trough.  It  was  still  gray  in 
the  yard. 

"  You  are  up  early,  are  n't  you,  my  dear,"  said  the  old 
peasant  woman,  the  mistress  of  the  house,  coming  out 
from  the  izba,  and  addressing  him  in  a  friendly  way,  like 
an  old.  acquaintance. 

"  Yes,  I  'm  going  out  shooting,  auntie.  Can  I  go  this 
way  to  the  swamp  ?  " 

"  Directly  behind  the  barns,  follow  the  foot-path  along 


112  ANNA    KARENINA 

by  the  hemp-field."  Stepping  cautiously  with  her  bare, 
sunburnt  feet,  the  old  woman  accompanied  Levin  as  far 
as  the  fence  back  of  the  barn.  "  Go  straight  on  and 
you  '11  come  to  the  swamp.  Our  boys  went  there,  last 
evening." 

Laska  ran  merrily  ahead  along  the  foot-path.  Levin 
followed  her  with  swift,  light  steps,  constantly  watching 
the  sky.  He  had  an  idea  that  he  would  reach  the 
swamp  before  the  sun  would  be  up.  But  the  sun  did 
not  loiter.  The  moon,  which  had  been  shining  brightly 
when  he  first  came  out,  was  now  growing  pallid  like  a 
lump  of  quicksilver.  The  morning  star,  which  before 
was  most  conspicuous,  now  almost  defied  detection ; 
certain  spots  before  almost  indistinguishable  on  the 
distant  field,  now  were  becoming  plainly  visible ;  these 
were  heaps  of  rye.  The  dew,  though  it  could  not  be 
seen  in  the  absence  of  the  sunlight,  was  so  dense  on  the 
fragrant  tall  hemp  from  which  the  seed  had  already 
been  gathered,  that  it  wet  Levin's  legs  and  blouse' above 
his  belt.  In  the  transparent  stillness  of  the  morning  the 
slightest  sounds  were  audible.  A  bee,  humming  like  a 
bullet,  whizzed  by  Levin's  ear.  He  looked  around  and 
discovered  a  second  and  yet  a  third.  They  were  com- 
ing from  the  hives  and  were  flying  over  the  hemp-field 
and  disappearing  in  the  direction  of  the  swamp.  '  The 
foot-path  led  directly  into  the  marsh,  which  could  be 
detected  by  the  mists  rising  over  it,  here  denser,  there 
thinner,  so  that  clumps  of  grass  and  cytisus  bushes 
looked  like  little  islands  emerging  from  them.  Peasant 
boys  and  men,  who  had  been  on  night  duty,  were 
scattered  about  on  the  edge  of  the  swamp  and  along  the 
roadside,  and  all  of  them  were  sleeping  wrapped  up  in 
their  kaftans.  At  a  little  distance  from  them  three 
horses  were  moving  about  unfastened.  One  of  them 
carried  clinking  chains.  Laska  ran  along  by  her 
master's  side,  eager  to  dash  ahead,  and  with  her  eyes 
on  everything.  After  they  had  passed  the  sleeping 
muzhiks  and  had  reached  the  first  swampy  places.  Levin 
examined  the  priming  of  his  gun  and  let  the  dog  go. 

One  of  the  horses,  a  fat  chestnut  three-year-old,  see- 


ANNA    KARENINA  113 

ing  Laska,  shied,  and,  lifting  his  tail,  whinnied.  The  two 
other  horses  were  also  startled,  and  dashed  through  the 
water  and  galloped  out  of  the  swamp.  As  they  pulled 
their  hoofs  out  of  the  soft,  sticky  mud,  they  made  a 
noise  like  smacking.  Laska  paused,  looking  with 
amused  eyes  at  the  horses,  and  seemed  to  ask  her 
master  what  she  should  do.  Levin  caressed  her  and 
gave  a  whistle  as  a  signal  that  she  might  begin  her 
work.  Laska,  joyous  and  full  of  importance,  darted  on 
over  the  soil  of  the  marsh,  which  quaked  under  her 
weight. 

As  soon  as  she  got  fairly  into  the  bog,  Laska  in- 
stantly distinguished  amid  all  the  well-known  odors  of 
roots  and  swamp-grass  and  the  mud  and  the  droppings 
of  the  horses,  the  scent  of  the  bird  perceptible  through 
the  whole  place  —  the  penetrating  bird  odor  w^hich 
more  than  anything  else  excited  her.  Wherever  there 
was  moss  or  sage  bushes  this  odor  was  peculiarly  strong, 
but  it  was  impossible  to  make  out  in  which  direction  it 
increased  or  diminished  in  strength.  In  order  to  get 
her  bearings,  the  dog  had  to  bear  to  the  lee  of  the  wind. 
Unconscious  of  any  effort  in  moving  her  legs,  Laska  in 
an  eager  gallop,  yet  so  restrained  that  she  was  able  to 
stop  at  a  bound,  if  anything  of  consequence  presented  it- 
self, dashed  toward  the  right  away  from  the  breeze  which 
was  now  beginning  to  blow  freshly  from  the  east.  Snuff- 
ing the  air  with  her  widespread  nostrils,  she  suddenly 
became  conscious  that  she  was  no  longer  following  a 
trail,  but  was  on  the  game  itself  —  not  one  bird  alone, 
but  many.  Laska  slackened  her  speed.  The  birds 
were  there,  but  she  could  not  as  yet  determine  exactly 
where.  In  order  to  find  the  exact  spot,  she  began 
another  circle,  when  suddenly  the  voice  of  her  master 
called  her  back. 

"  Here,  Laska,"  he  cried,  directing  her  toward  the 
other  side.  She  paused  as  if  to  ask  him  if  she  had  not 
better  keep  on  as  she  had  begun.  But  he  repeated  his 
command  in  a  stern  voice,  sending  her  to  a  tussock- 
covered  place  overflowed  with  water,  where  there  could 
not  possibly  be  anything. 

VOL.  III.  —  8 


114  ANNA    KARENINA 

She  heard  him,  and,  pretending  to  obey  him,  so  as  to 
satisfy  him,  ran  hastily  over  the  spot  indicated,  and  then 
returned  to  the  place  which  had  attracted  her  before, 
and  instantly  perceived  them  again.  Now  that  he  no 
•longer  bothered  her  she  knew  exactly  what  to  do,  and 
without  looking  where  -she  was  going,  stumbling  over 
tussocks  to  her  great  indignation  and  falling  into  the 
water,  but  quickly  extricating  herself  with  her  strong, 
agile  legs,  she  began  to  circle  round,  so  as  to  get  her 
exact  bearings. 

The  scent  of  the  birds  kept  growing  stronger  and 
stronger,  more  and  more  distinct,  and  suddenly  it  be- 
came perfectly  evident  to  her  that  one  of  them  was  there, 
just  behind  a  certain  tussock  not  five  steps  in  front  of  her, 
and  she  stopped  and  trembled  all  over.  Her  legs  were 
so  short  that  she  could  not  see  anything,  but  she  knew 
by  the  scent  that  the  bird  was  sitting  there  not  five  steps 
distant  from  her.  She  pointed,  growing  each  instant 
more  certain  of  her  game  and  full  of  joy  in  the  anticipa- 
tion. Her  tail  stuck  straight  out  and  only  the  end  of  it 
quivered.  Her  mouth  was  open  slightly.  Her  ears  were 
cocked  up.  Indeed,  one  ear  had  been  all  the  time  pricked 
up  as  she  ran,  and  she  was  panting  heavily,  but  cautiously, 
and  looking  round  still  more  cautiously,  rather  with  her 
eyes  than  with  her  head,  to  see  if  her  master  was  coming. 
He  was  coming,  leaping  from  tussock  to  tussock,  and 
more  slowly  than  usual  it  seemed  to  her ;  his  face  bore 
the  expression  which  she  knew  so  well,  and  which  was 
so  terrible  to  her.  It  seemed  to  her  that  he  was  coming 
slowly,  and  yet  he  was  running ! 

Remarking  Laska's  peculiar  method  of  search  as  she 
crouched  down  close  to  the  ground  and  took  such  long 
strides  that  her  hind  legs  seemed  to  rake  the  ground, 
and  noticing  her  slightly  opened  mouth.  Levin  knew 
that  she  was  on  the  track  of  snipe,  and  offering  a 
mental  prayer  to  God  that  he  might  not  miss  especially 
his  first  shot,  he  followed  the  dog.  As  he  came  up 
close  to  her  he  looked  from  his  superior  height  and  saw 
with  his  eyes  what  she  perceived  only  with  her  nose. 
In  a  nook  between  two  tussocks  not  more  than  six  feet 


ANNA    KARENINA  115 

away  from  him  a  snipe  was  sitting.  With  head  raised 
it  was  listening.  Then,  slightly  spreading  and  closing 
its  wings  and  awkwardly  wagging  its  tail,  it  hid  behind 
its  nook. 

"  At  him,  at  him  !  "  cried  Levin,  pushing  Laska  from 
behind. 

"But  I  can't  move,"  thought  Laska.  "Where  shall 
I  go  .''  From  here  I  smell  'em,  but  if  I  stir  I  shan't 
find  anything,  or  know  what  they  are  or  where  they 
are." 

-But  Levin  again  pushed  the  dog  with  his  knee,  and 
in  an  excited  whisper  he  cried  again,  "At  him,  Lasotchka, 
at  him  !  " 

"Well,  if  he  wants  me  to  do  it,  I  will,  but  I  won't 
answer  for  the  consequences  now,"  she  said  to  herself, 
and  she  darted  forward  with  all  her  might  between  the 
tussocks  !  She  no  longer  went  by  scent,  but  only  by 
her  eyes  and  ears,  and  did  not  know  what  she  was 
doing. 

Ten  paces  from  the  first  place  a  second  snipe  arose 
with  a  loud  squawking  and  a  characteristic  drunmiing 
of  wings.  Instantly  the  shot  rang  out  and  the  bird  fell 
heavily  with  its  white  breast  on  the  moist  ground.  Still 
another  immediately  flew  up,  not  even  roused  by  the  dog. 

When  Levin  aimed  at  it  it  was  already  a  long  shot, 
but  he  brought  it  down.  After  flying  twenty  feet  or 
more  the  second  snipe  rose  high  into  the  air,  then,  spin- 
ning like  a  top,  fell  heavily  to  the  ground  on  a  dry 
spot. 

"  That  is  the  talk,"  thought  Levin,  thrusting  the  fat 
snipe,  still  warm,  into  his  hunting-bag.  "  Ha,  Lasotchka, 
there  's  some  sense  in  this,  hey  ?  " 

When  Levin,  having  reloaded,  went  still  farther  into 
the  swamp,  the  sun  was  already  up,  though  it  was  as 
yet  hidden  behind  masses  of  clouds.  The  moon,  which 
had  now  lost  all  its  brilliancy,  looked  like  a  white  cloud 
against  the  sky;  not  a  star  was  to  be  seen.  The  swampy 
places,  which  before  had  been  silvered  with  the  dew, 
were  now  yellow.  The  whole  swamp  was  amber.  The 
blue  of  the  grass  changed  into  yellowish  green.     The 


ii6  ANNA    KARENINA 

marsh  birds  bustled  about  among  the  bushes  glittering 
with  dew  and  casting  long  shadows  along  by  the  brook. 
A  hawk  awoke  and  perched  on  a  hayrick,  turning  his 
head  from  side  to  side,  looking  with  displeasure  at  the 
marsh.  The  jackdaws  flew  field  ward,  and  a  barefooted 
urchin  was  already  starting  to  drive  the  horses  up  to  an 
old  man  who  had  been  spending  the  night  there,  and  was 
now  crawling  out  from  under  his  kaftan.  The  gun- 
powder smoke  lay  white  as  milk  along  the  green  grass. 
One  of  the  peasant  children  ran  down  to  Levin. 

"  There  were  some  ducks  here  last  evening,  uncle,"  ^ 
he  cried,  and  followed  him  at  a  distance. 

And  Levin  experienced  a  feeling  of  the  keenest  satis- 
faction in  kiUing  three  woodcock,  one  after  the  other, 
while  the  boy  was  watching  him  and  expressing  his 
approbation. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

The  superstition  of  hunters,  that  if  the  first  shot 
brings  down  bird  or  beast,  the  field  will  be  good,  was 
justified. 

Tired  and  hungry,  but  delighted.  Levin  returned' 
about  ten  o'clock,  after  a  .run  of  thirty  versts,  having 
brought  down  nineteen  snipe  and  woodcock  and  one 
duck,  which,  for  want  of  room  in  his  game-bag,  he  hung 
at  his  belt.  His  companions  had  been  long  up ;  and 
after  waiting  till  they  were  famished,  they  had  eaten 
breakfast. 

"  Hold  on,  hold  on  !  I  know  there  are  nineteen," 
cried  Levin,  counting  for  the  second  time  his  woodcock 
and  snipe,  with  their  bloodstained  plumage,  and  their 
drooping  heads  all  laid  one  over  the  other,  so  different 
from  what  they  were  on  the  marsh. 

The  count  was  verified,  and  Stepan  Arkadyevitch's 
envy  was  delightful  to  Levin. 

It  was  also   delightful   to   him,  on   returning  to  his 

1  Dyadenka,  little  uncle. 


ANNA    KARENINA  117 

lodging,  to  find  there  a  messenger  who  had  just  come 
from  Kitty,  bringing  him  a  letter. 

I  am  perfectly  well  and  happy,  and  if  you  fear  lest  I  shall 
not  be  sufficiently  cared  for,  you  may  be  reassured.  I  have  a 
new  body-guard  in  the  person  of  Marya  Vlasyevna.  [She  was 
a  midwife,  a  new  and  very  important  personage  in  Levin's  fam- 
ily.] She  came  over  to  see  me.  She  thinks  I  am  wonderfully 
well,  and  we  shall  keep  her  till  you  get  back.  We  are  all  well 
and  happy,  and  if  you  are  enjoying  yourself  and  the  hunting  is 
good  you  may  stay  another  day. 

These  two  pleasures  —  his  successful  hunt  and  the  let- 
ter from  his  wife  —  were  so  great,  that  they  effaced  from 
Levin's  mind  two  less  agreeable  incidents.  The  first 
was  the  fact  that  his  fast  horse,  who  had  apparently  been 
overworked  the  evening  before,  refused  to  eat  and  was 
out  of  sorts.     The  coachman  said  that  she  was  used  up. 

"  They  abused  her  last  evening,  Konstantin  Dmitritch," 
said  he.  "  The  idea  !  They  drove  her  ten  versts  at  full 
speed !  " 

The  second  unpleasantness,  which  for  the  first  mo- 
ment put  an  end  to  his  happy  frame  of  mind,  but  which 
afterward  caused  him  no  end  of  amusement,  arose  from 
the  fact  that  not  a  thing  was  left  for  him  from  all  the 
abundant  store  of  provisions  which  Kitty  had  put  up 
for  them,  and  which  it  seemed  ought  to  have  lasted 
them  a  whole  week.  As  he  returned  from  his  long  and 
weary  tramp.  Levin  had  indulged  his  imagination  in 
certain  tarts,  so  that  when  he  entered  the  izba  he 
actually  felt  the  taste  of  them  in  his  mouth  just  as  Laska 
scented  the  game,  and  he  immediately  ordered  Filipp 
to  serve  them  to  him.  It  then  transpired  that  not  only 
the  tarts,  but  all  the  cold  chicken,  had  disappeared. 

"  There  !  talk  of  appetites,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, 
laughing  and  nodding  at  Vasenka  Veslovsky ;  "  I  can- 
not complain  of  mine,  but  this  is  marvelous." 

"Well!  what  shall  I  do.''"  cried  Levin,  glowering  at 
Veslovsky.     "  Fihpp,  give  me  some  cold  beef." 

"  Beef 's  all  gone  and  the  dogs  have  got  the  bones  !  ' 
replied  Filipp. 


ii8  ANNA   KARENINA 

I 

Levin  was  so  irritated  that  he  could  not  help  exclaim 
ing,  "I  should  think  you  might  have  left  something 
for  me  !  "  and  he  felt  like  crying. 

"Then  cook  me  a  woodcock,"  he  said,  with  trembling 
voice,  to  Filipp,  trying  not  to  look  at  Vasenka,  "  and 
bring  me  some  milk." 

But  after  he  drank  his  milk  he  was  mortified  because 
he  had  shown  his  disappointment  so  plainly  and  before 
a  stranger,  and  he  began  to  laugh  at  himself  for  his 
anger. 

In  the  afternoon  they  went  out  into  the  fields  again, 
and  even  Veslovsky  shot  several  birds,  and  at  night  they 
went  home. 

They  were  as  gay  on  their  return  as  they  had  been 
while  going.  Veslovsky  now  sang  songs,  and  now  told 
of  his  adventures  with  the  muzhiks  who  gave  him  his 
vodka  and  bade  him  drink  it  down  quick.  Then  he 
related  his  nocturnal  experiences  with  the  nuts  and  the 
farm  girl,  and  the  muzhik  who  asked  him  if  he  was 
married  or  not,  and  who,  when  he  found  that  he  was 
not  married,  said  to  him  :  "  Well,  you  'd  better  not  be 
running  after  other  folks'  women  ;  first  of  all  go  home 
and  get  a  wife  for  yourself." 

This  advice  greatly  amused  Veslovsky. 

"  Well,  on  the  whole,  I  am  awfully  glad  we  went, 
are  n't  you.  Levin  .-'  " 

"Very  glad,"  replied  Levin,  sincerely,  and  he  was 
especially  happy  because  he  no  longer  felt  that  animosity 
which  he  had  felt  at  home  toward  Vasenka  Veslovsky ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  had  conceived  a  genuine  friend- 
ship for  him. 

CHAPTER   XIV 

About  ten  o'clock  the  next  morning,  after  inspecting 
the  farm,  Levin  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  room  in 
which  Vasenka  had  spent  the  night. 

'' Eiitrcz,''  cried  Veslovsky.  "Excuse  me,  but  I  am 
just  finishing  my  ablutions,'"  he  added,  with  a  smile, 
standing  before  Levin  in  his  bare  skin. 


ANNA    KARENINA  119 

*'  Do  not  let  me  disturb  you,"  said  Levin,  and  he  sat 
down  by  the  window.     "  Did  you  sleep  well?  " 

"  Like  the  dead.     Is  it  a  good  day  for  hunting  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  drink,  tea  or  coffee .-'" 

"  Neither ;  I  always  go  down  to  breakfast ;  I  am 
mortified  at  being  so  late.  The  ladies,  I  suppose,  are 
already  up  ?  Sjolendid  time  for  a  ride  !  You  must  show 
me  your  horses." 

After  walking  around  the  garden,  examining  the  stable, 
and  performing  a  few  gymnastic  exercises  together  on 
the  parallel  bars.  Levin  and  his  guest  returned  to  the 
house  and  went  into  the  drawing-room. 

"  We  had  splendid  sport  and  got  so  many  new  im- 
pressions," said  Veslovsky,  approaching  Kitty,  who  was 
sitting  near  the  samovar.  "  What  a  pity  that  ladies  are 
deprived  of  this  pleasure  !  " 

"Well,  of  course  he  must  have  something  to  say  to 
the  lady  of  the  house,"  thought  Levin.  Again  he  de- 
tected something  peculiar  in  the  smile  and  in  the  tri- 
umphant air  with  which  his  guest  behaved  toward  Kitty. 

The  princess,  who  was  sitting  on  the  other  side  of  the 
table  with  Marya  Vlasyevna  and  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, 
called  Levin  to  her  and  began  to  broach  her  idea  that 
they  should  go  to  Moscow  for  Kitty's  confinement,  and 
explained  to  him  how  the  rooms  should  be  prepared  for 
her. 

Just  as  all  the  preparations  for  his  wedding  had 
seemed  distasteful  to  Levin  because  they  were  so  insig- 
nificant in  comparison  with  the  majesty  of  the  event 
itself,  so  now  even  more  humiliating  were  all  the  prepa- 
rations for  the  approaching  confinement,  the  time  of 
which  they  were  reckoning  up  on  their  fingers.  He 
tried  to  shut  his  ears  to  all  the  talk  about  the  various 
kinds  of  swaddling-clothes  for  the  unborn  infant ;  he 
did  his  best  to  shut  his  eyes  to  all  the  mysterious  and 
numberless  bands  and  triangular  pieces  of  linen  to  which 
Dolly  seemed  to  attribute  special  importance  and  the 
like. 

The  event  of  the  birth  of  a  son  —  for  he  was  firmly 
persuaded  that  it  would  be  a  son  —  seemed  to  him   so 


I20  ANNA    KARENINA 

extraordinary  that  he  could  not  beheve  in  its  possibility  , 
and  while  on  the  one  hand  it  promised  him  a  happiness 
too  enormous  and  therefore  incredible,  on  the  other 
hand  it  seemed  to  him  too  mysterious  to  admit  of  trying 
to  imagine  what  it  meant,  and  consequently  all  this 
preparation  as  if  for  something  commonplace,  for  some- 
thing in  the  hands  of  men,  seemed  to  him  revolting  and 
humiliating.  The  princess  did  not  understand  his  feel- 
ings, and  she  attributed  his  unwillingness  to  think  and 
talk  about  this  to  indifference  and  carelessness,  and  so 
she  gave  him  no  peace.  She  had  just  been  charging 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch  to  look  up  a  suite  of  rooms,  and 
now  she  called  Levin  to  her. 

"  Do  as  you  think  best,  princess  ;  I  understand  nothing 
about  the  matter,"  said  he. 

"  But  it  must  be  decided  just  when  you  will  go  to 
Moscow." 

"  Truly  I  don't  know  ;  what  I  know  is  that  millions  of 
children  are  born  away  from  Moscow,  and  doctors  ... 
and  all  that  ...." 

"  Yes,  but  in  that  case  ...." 

"  Let  Kitty  do  as  she  pleases  about  it." 

"  It  is  impossible  to  speak  with  Kitty  about  it.  Do 
you  want  me  to  frighten  her.^  Only  this  spring  NataH 
Golitsuin  died  in  consequence  of  an  unskilful  accoucheur.'''' 

"  I  shall  do  as  you  wish,"  repeated  Levin,  angrily. 

The  princess  began  to  say  something  more  to  him, 
but  he  was  not  listening.  Though  his  conversation  with 
the  princess  upset  him,  he  was  not  angered  by  what  she 
said,  but  by  what  he  saw  at  the  samovar. 

"  No  ;  that  can't  go  on,"  thought  he,  as  he  from  time 
to  time  glanced  over  at  Vasenka,  who  was  bending 
down  to  Kitty,  with  a  flattering  smile,  and  making  some 
remark  to  her ;  and  he  also  noticed  his  wife's  disturbed 
and  blushing  face. 

There  was  something  improper  in  Veslovsky's  attitude, 
his  smile,  his  eyes.  So,  too,  Kitty's  action  and  appear- 
ance seemed  to  him  unbecoming,  and  again  the  light 
flashed  in  his  eyes.  And  again,  as  happened  two  day.s 
before,  he  felt  himself  suddenly,  without  the  least  warn- 


ANNA    KARENINA  121 

ing,  precipitated  from  the  height  of  happiness,  content- 
ment, and  dignity,  into  an  abyss  of  despair,  hatred,  and 
confusion.  Again  they  seemed  to  him,  each  and  all,  his 
enemies. 

"  Do  just  as  you  plea'se,  princess,"  said  he  again, 
turning  round. 

"  Heavy  is  the  cap  of  Monomakh,"  said  Stepan  Ar- 
kadyevitch  in  jest,  referring  evidently,  not  to  Levin's 
conversation  with  the  princess,  but  to  the  cause  of 
Levin's  agitated  face,  which  he  had  noticed.  "  How 
late  you  are,  Dolly  !  " 

All  rose  to  greet  Darya  Aleksandrovna.  Vasenka 
also  arose,  but  only  for  a  moment ;  and  with  the  lack  of' 
politeness  characteristic  of  up-to-date  young  men  toward 
ladies,  scarcely  bowing,  he  resumed  his  conversation  with 
some  humorous  remarks. 

"  Mash  a  has  been  wearing  me  all  out,"  said  Dolly. 
"  She  did  not  sleep  well  and  she  is  terribly  fretful  to-day." 

The  conversation  which  Vasenka  and  Kitty  were  en- 
gaged in  once  more  turned,  as  it  had  the  evening  before, 
on  Anna  and  whether  love  could  hold  outside  the  con- 
ventions of  society This  conversation  was  disagree- 
able to  Kitty,  and  it  agitated  her,  not  only  by  reason  of 
the  topic  and  the  tone  in  which  it  was  carried  on,  but 
still  more  because  she  was  already  conscious  of  the 
effect  it  would  have  on  her  husband.  But  she  was  too 
simple  and  innocent  to  understand  how  to  put  an  end 
to  it,  or  even  to  hide  the  signs  of  agitation  which  this 
young  man's  too  pronounced  attentions  produced  in  her. 
Whatever  she  did,  she  knew  perfectly  well  would  be  re- 
marked by  her  husband  and  would  he.  absolutely  misin- 
terpreted. 

And  indeed,  when  she  asked  Dolly  what  was  the 
matter  with  Masha,  and  Vasenka,  waiting  till  this  new 
subject  of  conversation,  which  was  a  bore  to  him,  should 
be  finished,  stared  with  an  indifferent  look  at  Dolly, 
this  question  struck  Levin  as  an  unnatural  and  obnox- 
ious kind  of  slyness. 

"  Well,  are  we  going  after  mushrooms  to-day  ?  "  asked 
Dolly. 


122  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  Oh,  yes,  do  let  us  go,  I  should  like  to  get  some,'" 
said  Kitty,  and  she  blushed.  For  mere  politeness'  sake 
she  wanted  to  ask  Vasenka  if  he  would  go  with  them, 
but  she  did  not  do  so. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  K(?stia  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a 
guilty  air,  as  her  husband,  with  deliberate  steps,  went 
by  her  on  his  way  out  of  the  room. 

This  guilty  confusion  confirmed  all  his  suspicions. 

"  A  machinist  came  while  I  was  away.  I  have  not 
had  a  chance  to  see  him  yet,"  he  answered,  without 
looking  at  her. 

He  had  gone  down-stairs,  but  had  not  yet  left  his 
library,  before  he  heard  Kitty's  well-known  footsteps 
imprudently  hurrying  after  him. 

"  What  is  it  ?     We  are  busy,"  said  he,  curtly. 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Kitty,  addressing  the  German  ma- 
chinist ;  "  I  wish  to  say  a  few  words  to  my  husband." 

The  mechanic  was  about  to  leave,  but  Levin  stopped 
him  :  "  Don't  disturb  yourself." 

"  I  don't  want  to  lose  the  three  o'clock  train,"  re- 
marked the  German. 

Without  answering  him.  Levin  went  out  into  the  cor- 
ridor with  his  wife. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  wish  to  say  to  me .-' "  he  asked  in 
French. 

He  did  not  look  at  her  face,  and  did  not  want  to  see 
how  it  quivered  and  what  a  look  of  pathetic  humiliation 
was  in  her  eyes. 

"  I ....  I  wanted  to  say  that  it  is  impossible  to  live  so; 
it  is  torture  "  ....  murmured  she. 

"  There  is  some  one  there  at  the  cupboard,"  he  re- 
plied angrily.     "  Don't  make  a  scene." 

"Then  let  us  go  in  here,  then." 

Kitty  wanted  to  go  into  the  next  room,  but  there  the 
English  governess  was  teaching  Tania. 

"Then  let  us  go  into  the  garden." 

In  the  garden  they  ran  across  a  muzhik  who  was 
weeding  a  path.  And  now  no  longer  thinking  that  the 
muzhik  would  see  her  tearful  or  his  agitated  face,  not 
thinking  that  they  were  in  sight  of  people,  as  if  running 


ANNA    KARENINA  123 

trom  some  unhappiness,  they  went  with  swift  steps 
straight  on,  feeling  that  they  must  have  a  mutual  expla- 
nation, and  find  some  lonely  spot  where  they  could  talk, 
and  free  themselves  from  this  misery  that  was  oppress- 
ing them  both. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  live  so.  It  is  torture.  I  suffer. 
You  suffer.  Why  is  it  .-*  "  she  said;  when  at  last  they 
reached  a  bench  standing  by  itself  in  the  corner  of  the 
linden  alley. 

"  But  tell  me  one  thing:  was  not  his  manner  indecent, 
improper,   horribly   insulting.^"   he   asked,    standing  in 
front  of  her  in  the  same  position,  with  his  fists  doubled 
up  on  his  chest,  in  which  he  had  stood  before  her  two. 
days  before. 

"  It  was,"  said  she,  in  a  trembling  voice ;  "  but,  Kos- 
tia,  can't  you  see  that  I  am  not  to  blame  .'  All  this 
morning  I  have  been  trying  to  act  so  that....  but  oh, 
these  men ....  why  did  he  come.-*  How  happy  we 
were !  "  she  said,  choking  with  the  sobs  that  shook  her 
whole  body. 

The  gardener  saw  with  surprise  that,  though  nothing 
was  chasing  them,  and  there  was  nothing  to  run  away 
from,  and  there  was  nothing  especially  attractive  about 
the  bench  where  they  had  been  sitting,  yet  still  they 
went  past  him  back  to  the  house  with  peaceful,  shining 
faces. 

CHAPTER   XV 

As  soon  as  he  had  taken  his  wife  to  her  room,  Levin 
went  to  seek  Dolly.  Darya  Aleksandrovna  also  was  in 
a  state  of  great  excitement.  She  was  pacing  up  and 
down  her  chamber,  and  scolding  little  Masha,  who 
stood  in  a  corner,  crying. 

"You  shall  stay  all  day  in  the  corner,  and  eat  dinner 
alone,  and  you  shall  not  see  one  of  your  dolls,  and  you 
shall  have  no  new  dress,"  she  was  saying,  though  she 
did  not  know  why  she  was  punishing  the  child.  "  This 
is  a  naughty  little  girl,"  she  said  to  Levin;  "  where  does 
she  get  this  abominable  disposition  ?  " 


124  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  Why,  what  has  she  done  ?  "  asked  Levin,  rather  in 
differently,  for  he  was  annoyed  to  find  that  he  had  come 
at  the  wrong  time  when  he  wished  some  advice  regard- 
ing his  own  affairs. 

"  She  and  Grisha  went  into  the  raspberry  bush,  and 
there  ....  but  I  can't  tell  you  what  she  did.  I  'd  a  thou- 
sand times  rather  have  Miss  Elliot.  This  governess 
does  n't  look  after  anything  ....  she  's  a  machine.  Figures 
V071S,  que  la  petite  ...y 

And  Darya  Aleksandrovna  related  Masha's  misdeeds. 

"  There  's  nothing  very  bad  in  that.  That  does  n't 
signify  a  bad  disposition.  It  is  only  a  piece  of  childish 
mischief,"  said  Levin,  soothingly. 

"  But  what  is  the  matter  with  you  }  You  look  troubled. 
What  has  happened  down-stairs  }  "  asked  Dolly,  and  by 
the  tone  of  her  questions  Levin  perceived  that  it  would 
be  easy  for  him  to  say  what  he  had  in  his  mind  to  say. 

"  I  have  n't  been  down-stairs.  I  have  been  alone  in 
the  garden  with  Kitty.  We  have  just  had  a  quarrel .... 
the  second  since....  Stiva  came." 

Dolly  looked  at  him  with  her  intelligent,  penetrating 
eyes. 

"  Now  tell  me,  with  your  hand  on  your  heart,"  he 
said,  "  tell  me,  was  the  conduct,  not  of  Kitty,  but  of 
this  young  man,  anything  else  than  unpleasant,  not 
unpleasant,  but  intolerable,  insulting  even,  to  a  hus- 
band ?  " 

"  What  shall  I  say  to  you }  —  Stand,  stand  in  the 
corner!"  said  she  to  Masha,  who,  noticing  the  scarcely 
perceptible  smile  on  her  mother's  face,  started  to  go 
away.  "  Society  would  say  that  he  is  only  behaving  as 
all  young  men  behave.  //  fait  la  coiir  a  ujte  jeune  et 
jolie  femme,  and  her  husband,  as  himself  a  gentleman 
of  society,  should  be  flattered  by  it." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Levin,  angrily;  "but  have  you 
noticed  it .'' " 

"  I  noticed  it,  of  course,  and  so  did  Stiva.  Just  after 
tea  he  said  to  me,  ^Je  crois  que  Veslovsky  fait  nn  petit 
brin  de  conr  a  Kitty.''  "  ^ 

1 1  believe  Veslovsky  is  trying  to  flirt  with  Kitty. 


ANNA    KARENINA  123 

"  Well,  that  settles  it.  Now  I  am  calm.  I  am  going 
to  send  him  away,"  said  Levin. 

"  What !  Are  you  out  of  your  senses  .''  "  cried  Dolly, 
alarmed.  "What  are  you  thinking  about,  Kostia .'' " 
she  went  on  with  a  laugh.  —  "  You  may  go  now  to 
Fanny,"  she  said  to  the  child.  "  No !  If  you  like,  I 
will  speak  to  Stiva.  He  will  get  him  to  leave.  He  can 
say  you  are  expecting  company.  However,  it  is  not 
our  house." 

"  No,  no  !     I  will  do  it  myself." 

"You  will  quarrel."  .... 

"  Not  at  all,  I  shall  find  it  amusing,"  said  he,  with  a 
happier  light  shining  in  his  eyes.  "  There,  now,  Dolly, 
forgive  her  ;  she  won't  do  it  again,"  he  said,  pointing 
to  the  little  culprit,  who  had  not  gone  to  Fanny,  but 
was  now  standing  irresolute  beside  her  mother,  and 
looking  askance  at  her  with  pleading  eyes. 

The  mother  looked  at  her.  The  little  girl,  sobbing, 
hid  her  face  in  her  mother's  lap,  and  Dolly  laid  her  thin 
hand  tenderly  on  her  head. 

"  Is  there  anything  in  common  between  us  and  that 
fellow  ? "  thought  Levin,  and  he  went  to  find  Veslovsky. 

As  he  passed  through  the  hall  he  ordered  the  carriage 
to  be  made  ready  to  go  to  the  station. 

"  The  springs  were  broken  yesterday,"  the  servant 
answered. 

"  Then  bring  the  tarantas.  Only  be  quick  about  it. 
Where  is  the  guest  ?  " 

"  He  went  to  his  room." 

Levin  found  Vasenka  in  the  act  of  trying  on  his 
gaiters  in  preparation  for  a  ride.  He  had  just  taken 
his  things  out  of  his  valise,  and  laid  aside  some  new  love- 
songs. 

Either  there  was  something  strange  in  Levin's  ex- 
pression, or  Vasenka  himself  was  conscious  that  ce  petit 
brill  de  cour  which  he  was  making  was  rather  out  of 
place  in  this  family  ;  but  at  all  events,  he  felt  as  uncom- 
fortable in  Levin's  presence  as  it  is  possible  for  an 
elegant  young  man  to  feel. 

"Do  you  ride  in  gaiters .-'  "  asked  Levin. 


126  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  Yes ;  it 's  much  neater,"  replied  Vasenka,  putting 
up  one  fat  leg  on  a  chair,  and  struggling  with  the 
bottom  button,  and  smiling  with  genuine  good  humor. 

He  was  really  a  very  good-hearted  young  fellow,  and 
Levin  felt  sorry  for  him  and  conscience-stricken  for 
himself  as  his  host  when  he  saw  the  timidity  in  Vasenka's 
eyes. 

On  the  table  lay  a  fragment  of  a  stick  which  they 
had  broken  off  that  morning  while  trying  to  prop  up  the 
parallel  bars  for  their  gymnastic  exercises.  Levin  took 
this  fragment  in  his  hand  and  began  to  break  off  the 
ragged  ends,  not  knowing  how  to  commence. 

"  I  wanted  ....  "  He  stopped  for  a  moment ;  but  sud- 
denly remembering  Kitty  and  all  that  had  taken  place, 
he  went  on,  looking  him  squarely  in  the  eye.  "  I  have 
had  the  horses  put  in  for  you." 

"  What  do  you  mean  .-'  "  began  Vasenka,  in  surprise. 
"  Where  are  we  going  ?  " 

"  You  are  going  to  the  railway  station,"  said  Levin, 
with  a  frown,  breaking  off  the  end  of  the  stick. 

"  Are  you  going  away  ?     Has  anything  happened  .''  " 

"I  happen  to  be  expecting  company,"  Levin  went 
on,  breaking  off  pieces  of  his  stick  more  and  more  ner- 
vously with  his  strong  fingers.  "  Or,  no,  I  am  not 
expecting  any  one,  and  nothing  has  happened,  but  I 
beg  you  to  go  away.  You  may  explain  my  lack  in 
politeness  as  you  please." 

Vasenka  drew  himself  up. 

"  I  beg  jon  to  explain  to  me,"  said  he,  with  dignity, 
comprehending  at  last. 

"I  cannot  explain  to  you,  and  you  will  be  wise  not  to 
question  me,"  Levin  said  slowly,  trying  to  remain  calm, 
and  to  check  the  tremulous  motions  of  his  face. 

And  as  the  chipped  pieces  of  the  stick  were  by  this 
time  all  broken,  Levin  took  the  stick  in  his  fingers,  split 
it  in  two,  and  picked  up  the  part  that  fell  to  the 
floor. 

Apparently  the  sight  of  those  energetic  hands,  those 
very  muscles  which  he  had  seen  tested  that  morning 
while  they  were  doing  their  gymnastics,  those  flashing 


ANNA    KARENINA  127 

eyes,  and  the  quivering  face  and  the  subdued  sound  of 
his  voice  impressed  Vasenka  more  than  the  spoken 
words.  Shrugging  his  shoulders  and  smihng  disdain- 
fully, he  submitted. 

"  May  I  not  see  Oblonsky  ?  " 

The  shrugging  of  the  shoulders  and  the  smile  did  not 
annoy  Levin.  "  What  else  could  he  do  ? "  he  asked 
himself. 

"  I  will  send  him  to  you  immediately." 

"What  sense  is  there  in  such  conduct!"  exclaimed 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  when  he  had  learned  from  his 
friend  that  he  w^as  to  be  driven  from  the  house,  and 
finding  Levin  in  the  garden,  where  he  was  walking  up 
and  down  w'aiting  for  his  guest's  departure.  "  ]\Iais 
c'est  ridicule !  To  be  stung  by  such  a  fly  as  that ! 
Mais  c  est  dn  dernier  ridicule  I  What  difference  does 
it  make  to  you  if  a  young  man  ....  " 

But  the  spot  where  the  fly  had  stung  Levin  was  evi- 
dently still  sensitive,  because  he  turned  pale  again  and 
cut  short  the  explanations  which  Stepan  Arkadyevitch 
tried  to  give. 

"  Please  don't  take  the  trouble  to  defend  the  young 
man  ;  I  can't  help  it.  I  am  sorry  both  for  you  and  for 
him.  But  I  imagine  it  won't  be  a  great  trial  for  him  to 
go  away,  and  my  wife  and  I  both  found  his  presence 
unpleasant." 

"  But  it  was  insulting  to  him.     Et  puis  cest  ridicule!' 

"  Well,  it  was  humiliating  and  extremely  disagreeable 
to  me.  I  am  not  to  blame  toward  him,  and  there  is  no 
reason  why  I  should  suffer  for  it." 

"  Well,  I  did  not  expect  this  of  you.  On  pent  Hre 
jaloux,  inais  a  ce  point  c  est  du  dernier  ridiculed 

Levin  quickly  turned  away,  and  entered  the  thick 
shrubbery  by  the  driveway,  and  continued  to  walk  up 
and  down  the  path. 

Soon  he  heard  the  rumbling  of  the  tarantas,  and 
through  the  trees  he  saw  Vasenka  riding  up  the  road, 
sitting  on  the  straw  (for  unfortunately  the  tarantas  had 
no  seat),  the  ribbons  of  his  Scotch  cap  streaming  behind 
his  head  as  he  jolted  along. 


128  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  What  now  ? "  thought  Levin,  as  he  saw  a  servant 
run  from  the  house  and  stop  the  cart.  It  was  only  to 
find  a  place  for  the  machinist,  whom  Levin  had  entirely 
forgotten.  The  machinist,  with  a  low  bow,  said  some- 
thing to  Veslovsky,  and  clambered  into  the  tarantas,  and 
they  drove  off  together. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  and  the  old  princess  were  in- 
dignant at  Levin's  conduct.  And  he  himself  felt  that 
he  had  been  not  only  ridiculous  in  the  highest  degree, 
but  even  blameworthy  and  disgraceful ;  but  as  he  re- 
membered all  that  he  and  his  wife  had  suffered,  he 
asked  himself  how  he  should  do  another  time  in  similar 
circumstances,  and  his  answer  was  that  he  should  do 
exactly  the  same  thing  again. 

In  spite  of  all  this,  toward  the  end  of  the  day,  all  of 
them,  with  the  exception  of  the  old  princess,  who  could 
not  forgive  Levin's  behavior,  became  extraordinarily 
gay  and  lively,  just  like  children  after  a  punishment  or 
like  grown  people  after  a  solemn  official  reception,  so 
that  in  the  evening,  in  the  absence  of  the  old  princess, 
they  talked  about  the  dismissal  of  Vasenka  as  about 
something  that  had  taken  place  long,  long  before.  And 
Dolly,  who  had  inherited  from  her  father  the  gift  of 
telling  a  funny  story,  made  Varenka  laugh  till  she  cried, 
by  telling  her  three  and  four  times,  and  each  time  with 
new  amusing  details,  how  she  had  just  put  on,  in  honor 
of  their  guest,  some  new  ribbons,  and  was  just  going 
into  the  drawing-room,  when,  at  that  very  minute,  the 
rattle  of  an  old  tumble-down  wagon  drew  her  to  the 
window.  Who  was  in  this  old  tumble-down  wagon  ? 
Vasenka  himself !  and  his  Scotch  cap,  his  love-songs, 
his  romantic  airs,  and  his  gaiters,  seated  on  the  straw ! 

"  If  only  a  carriage  had  been  given  him  !  But  no ! 
Then  I  hear  a  shout :  '  Hold  on  !  '  'Well,'  I  say  to  my- 
self, 'they  have  taken  pity  on  him;'  not  in  the  least; 
I  look  and  see  a  fat  German,  —  and  off  they  go !  and 
my  ribbons  were  wasted." 


ANNA    KARENINA  129 


CHAPTER  XVI 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  carried  out  her  plan  of  go- 
ing to  see  Anna.  She  was  sorry  to  offend  her  sister, 
or  to  displease  her  sister's  huslDand.  She  realized  that 
the  Levins  were  right  in  not  wishing  to  have  anything 
to  do  with  Vronsky ;  but  she  considered  it  her  duty  to 
go  to  see  Anna  and  prove  to  her  that  her  feelings  could 
not  change,  in  spite  of  the  change  in  her  position. 

In  order  not  to  be  dependent  on  the  Levins,  Darya 
Aleksandrovna  sent  to  the  village  to  hire  horses ;  but 
Levin,  when  he  heard  about  it,  went  to  her  with  his 
complaint :  — 

"Why  do  you  think  this  journey  would  be  disagree- 
able to  me  ?  And  even  if  it  were,  it  would  be  still  more 
unpleasant  for  me  not  to  have  you  take  my  horses," 
said  he.  "  You  never  told  me  that  you  were  really 
going ;  but  to  hire  them  from  the  village  is  disagreeable 
to  me  in  the  first  place,  and  chiefly  because,  though  they 
undertake  to  get  you  there,  they  would  not  succeed.  I 
have  horses.  And  if  you  don't  wish  to  offend  me,  you 
will  take  mine." 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  had  to  yield,  and  on  the  ap- 
pointed day  Levin  had  all  ready  for  his  sister-in-law  a 
team  of  four  horses,  and  a  relay,  made  up  of  working 
and  saddle-horses ;  a  very  far  from  handsome  turnout, 
but  capable  of  taking  Darya  Aleksandrovna  to  her 
destination  in  one  day. 

Now  that  horses  were  needed  to  take  the  old  princess 
out  for  her  daily  drive,  and  for  the  midwife,  it  was  a 
rather  heavy  burden  for  Levin  ;  but,  according  to  the  law 
of  hospitality,  he  could  not  possibly  think  of  allowing 
Darya  Aleksandrovna  to  hire  horses  outside,  and,  more- 
over, he  knew  that  the  twenty  rubles  which  was  asked 
for  the  hire  of  a  team  would  be  a  serious  matter  for  her, 
for  Darya  Aleksandrovna's  pecuniary  affairs  had  got 
into  a  very  wretched  condition,  and  caused  the  Levins 
as  much  anxiety  as  if  they  had  been  their  own. 

Darya  Aleksandrovna,  by  Levin's  advice,  set  out  at 

VOL.  III.  —  9 


I30  ANNA    KARENINA 

early  dawn.  The  weather  was  fine,  the  calash  was 
comfortable,  the  horses  went  merrily,  and  on  the  box, 
next  the  coachman,  in  place  of  a  footman,  sat  the  book- 
keeper, whom  Levin  had  sent  for  the  sake  of  greater 
security. 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  dropped  off  to  sleep,  and  did 
not  wake  up  till  they  reached  the  place  where  they  had 
to  change  horses.  It  was  at  the  same  rich  muzhik's 
house  where  Levin  had  stopped  on  his  way  to  Svia- 
zhsky's.  After  she  had  taken  tea,  and  talked  awhile  with 
the  women  about  their  children  and  with  the  old  man 
about  Count  Vronsky,  for  whom  he  had  great  respect, 
Darya  Aleksandrovna  proceeded  on  her  way  about  ten 
o'clock. 

At  home  on  account  of  her  maternal  cares  she  never 
had  much  time  to  think.  Consequently  now,  during  this 
four  hours'  journey,  all  the  thoughts  that  had  been  so 
long  restrained  suddenly  began  to  throng  through  her 
brain,  and  she  passed  her  whole  life  in  review  as  she 
had  never  before  done  and  from  every  side.  These 
thoughts  were  strange  even  to  herself. 

First  she  thought  of  her  children,  and  began  to  worry 
over  them,  though  her  mother  and  her  sister  —  and 
it  was  the  latter  on  whom "  she  chiefly  relied  —  had 
promised  to  look  after  them.  "  If  only  Masha  does  n't 
do  some  stupid  thing,  and  if  Grisha  does  n't  get  kicked 
by  the  horse,  and  if  Lili  does  n't  have  an  attack  of  indi- 
gestion,'.' she  said  to  herself. 

Then  questions  of  the  present  moment  began  to 
mingle  with  questions  of  the  immediate  future.  She 
began  to  consider  how  she  must  make  changes  in  her 
rooms  when  she  returned  to  Moscow,  she  must  refurnish 
her  drawing-room ;  her  eldest  daughter  would  need  a 
shuba  for  winter.  Then  came  questions  of  a  still  more 
distant  future.  How  should  she  best  continue  the  chil- 
dren's education .'' 

"  The  girls  can  be  easily  managed,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"  but  the  boys  .-*  It  is  well  that  I  am  able  to  look  after 
Grisha,  but  it  comes  from  the  fact  that  I  am  free  just 
now,  with  no  baby  in  prospect.     Of  course  there  's  no 


ANNA   KARENINA  131 

dependence  to  be  placed  on  Stiva.  I  shall  be  able  to 
bring  them  up  with  the  assistance  of  excellent  people ; 
but  if  I  have  any  more  babies  ...." 

And  it  occurred  to  her  how  unjust  was  the  saying 
that  the  curse  laid  on  woman  lay  in  the  pangs  of  child-birth. 

"Childbirth  is  nothing,  but  pregnancy  is  such  misery," 
she  said  to  herself,  recalling  the  last  experience  of  the 
sort,  and  the  death  of  the  child.  And  the  thought 
brought  to  mind  her  talk  with  the  young  wife  at  the 
post-house.  When  asked  if  she  had  children,  this 
peasant  woman  had  answered  cheerfully  :  — 

"  I  had  one  daughter,  but  God  relieved  me  of  her ;  she 
was  buried  in  Lent. 

"  And  you  are  very  sad  about  her  ?  " 

"  Why  should  I  be  ?  father  has  plenty  of  grandchildren, 
as  it  is,  and  she  w^ould  have  been  only  one  care  more ! 
You  can't  work  or  do  anything  ;  it  hinders  everything." 

This  reply  had  seemed  revolting  to  Darya  Aleksan- 
drovna,  in  spite  of  the  young  peasant-woman's  appear- 
ance of  good  nature,  but  now  she  could  not  help  recalling 
what  she  had  said.  There  was  certainly  a  grain  of  truth 
in  those  cynical  words. 

"  Yes,  and  as  a  general  thing,"  said  Darya  Aleksan- 
drovna,  as  she  looked  back  over  the  fifteen  years  of  her 
married  life,  "  pregnancy,  nausea,  dullness  of  spirits,  in- 
difference to  everything,  and  worst  of  all,  ugliness. 
Kitty,  our  little,  young,  pretty  Kitty,  how  ugly  even 
she  has  grown,  and  I  know  well  what  a  fright  I  become 
when  I  am  in  that  condition.  The  birth-pains,  the  aw- 
ful sufferings,  and  that  last  moment ....  then  the  nursing 
of  the  children,  the  sleepless  nights,  the  agonies...." 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  shuddered  at  the  mere  recollec- 
tion of  the  agony  which  with  almost  every  one  of  her 
children  she  had  suffered  from  broken  breast. 

Then  the  illnesses  of  the  children,  that  panic  of  fear  -, 
then  their  education,  their  evil  disposition  ;  she  recalled 
little  Masha's  disobedience  in  going  to  the  raspberry 
bush ;  the  lessons,  Latin  —  everything  that  is  so  incom- 
prehensible and  hard.  And,  above  all,  the  death  of  these 
children. 


132 


ANNA    KARENINA 


And  once  more  she  went  over  the  undying  pangs  that 
weighed  down  her  maternal  heart  in  the  cruel  remem- 
brance of  the  death  of  her  youngest  child,  the  nursling 
who  died  of  the  croup,  and  his  funeral,  and  the  indiffer- 
ence of  other  people  as  they  looked  at  the  Httle  pink 
coffin,  and  her  own  heartrending  grief,  which  none 
could  share,  as  she  looked  for  the  last  time  on  the  pal- 
lid brow  with  the  clinging  curls,  and  the  surprised  half- 
open  mouth  visible  for  one  instant  ere  they  shut  down 
the  cover  with  its  silver-gilt  cross. 

"  And  what  is  all  this  for  ?  What  will  be  the  result  of 
it  all  ?  That  I  never  have  a  moment  of  rest,  spending  my 
days  now  in  bearing  children,  now  in  nursing  them,  for- 
ever irritable,  complaining,  self-tormented,  and  torment- 
ing others,  repulsive  to  my  husband.  I  shall  live  on,  and 
my  children  will  grow  up  wretched,  ill-educated,  and 
poor.  Even  now,  if  I  had  not  been  able  to  spend  the 
summer  with  the  Levins,  I  don't  know  how  we  should 
have  got  along.  Of  course  Kostia  and  Kitty  are  so 
considerate  that  we  can't  feel  under  obligations  to  them  ; 
but  this  cannot  go  on  so.  They  will  be  having  children 
of  their  own,  and  then  they  will  not  be  able  to  help  us 
any  more ;  even  now  their  expenses  are  very  heavy. 
What  then  .''  Papa,  who  has  kept  almost  nothing  for  him- 
self, won't  be  able  to  help  us,  will  he  ?  One  thing  is  per- 
fectly certain,  I  cannot  educate  my  children  unaided  ; 
and,  if  I  have  to  have  assistance,  it  will  be  humiliating. 
Well,  let  us  suppose  that  we  have  good  luck,  if  no  more 
of  the  children  die  and  I  can  manage  to  educate  them. 
Under  the  most  favorable  circumstances  they  will  at 
least  turn  out  not  to  be  bad.  That  is  all  that  I  can 
hope  for.     And   to  bring   about  so  much,   how  much 

suffering,  how  much  trouble,  I  must  go  through My 

whole  life  is  spoiled  !  " 

Again  she  recalled  what  the  young  peasant  woman 
had  said,  and  again  it  was  odious  to  her  to  remember  it; 
but  she  could  not  help  agreeing  that  there  was  a  grain 
of  coarse  truth  in  her  words. 

"Is  it  much  farther,  Mikha'ila  ? "  asked  Darya  Alek- 
sandrovna  of  the  bookkeeper,  in  order  to  check  these 
painful  thoughts. 


ANNA    KARENINA  133 

"They  say  it  is  seven  versts  from  this  village." 

The  calash  was  rolling  through  the  village  street  and 
across  a  little  bridge.  On  the  bridge  was  passing  a 
whole  troop  of  peasant  women  talking,  with  loud  and 
merry  voices,  and  carrying  their  sheaves  on  their  backs. 
The  women  paused  on  the  bridge  and  gazed  inquisi- 
tively at  the  calash.  All  the  faces  turned  toward  Darya 
Aleksandrovna  seemed  to  her  healthy  and  cheerful, 
mocking  her  with  the  very  joy  of  life. ' 

"All  are  full  of  life,  all  of  them  enjoy  themselves," 
said  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  continuing  to  commune  with 
her  own  thoughts,  as  she  passed  by  the  peasant  women 
and  was  carried  swiftly  up  the  little  hill,  pleasantly  . 
rocking  on  the  easy  springs  of  the  old  calash,  "while  I, 
like  one  let  loose  from  a  prison,  am  free  for  a  moment 
from  the  life  that  is  crushing  me  with  its  cares.  All 
other  women  know  what  it  is  to  live,  these  peasant 
women  and  my  sister  Natali  and  Varenka  and  Anna 
whom  I  am  going  to  visit  —  every  one  but  me. 

"  And  they  blame  Anna.  Why  .■'  Am  I  really  any 
better  than  she  .■*  At  least  I  have  a  husband  whom  I 
love ;  not,  to  be  sure,  as  I  wish  I  loved  him,  but  I  love 
him  in  a  way,  and  Anna  did  not  love  hers.  In  what 
respect  is  she  to  blame  ?  She  desired  to  live.  And  God 
put  that  desire  into  our  hearts.  Very  possibly  I  might 
have  done  the  same  thing.  And  to  this  day  I  am  not 
certain  whether  I  did  well  in  taking  her  advice  at  that 
horrible  time  when  she  came  to  visit  me  in  Moscow. 
Then  I  ought  to  have  left  my  husband  and  begun  my  life 
all  over  again.  If  I  had  I  might  have  loved  and  been  loved. 
And  now  are  things  any  better  ?  I  cannot  respect  him, 
but  I  need  him,"  she  said  to  herself,  referring  to  her 
husband,  "  and  so  I  endure  him.  Is  that  any  better  ? 
At  that  time  I  still  had  the  power  of  pleasing,  I  had 
some  beauty  then,"  said  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  still 
pursuing  her  thoughts  ;  and  the  desire  to  look  at  her- 
self in  a  mirror  came  over  her.  She  had  a  small  travel- 
ing mirror  in  her  bag,  and  she  wanted  to  take  it  out  ; 
but,  as  she  looked  at  the  backs  of  the  coachman  and 
the  swaying  bookkeeper,    she    felt  that  she  should  be 


134 


ANNA    KARKNINA 


ashamed  of  herself  if  either  of  them  turjied  round  and 
saw  her,  and  so  she  did  not  take  out  the  mirror.  But, 
even  though  she  did  not  look  at  the  mirror,  she  felt  that 
even  now  it  was  not  too  late :  for  she  remembered 
Sergyei  Ivanovitch,  who  was  especially  amiable  to  her, 
and  Stiva's  friend,  the  good  Turovtsuin,  who  had  helped 
her  take  care  of  the  children  during  the  time  of  the 
scarlatina,  and  had  been  in  love  with  her.  And  then 
there  was  still  another,  a  very  young  man,  who,  as  her 
husband  used  jestingly  to  remark,  found  her  prettier 
than  all  her  sisters.  And  all  sorts  of  passionate  and  im- 
possible romances  rose  before  her  imagination. 

"  Anna  has  done  perfectly  right,  and  I  shall  never 
think  of  reproaching  her.  She  is  happy,  she  makes 
some  one  else  happy,  and  she  is  not  worn  out  as  I  am,  but 
keeps  all  her  freshness  and  her  mind  open  to  all  sorts  of 
interests,"  said  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  and  a  roguish 
smile  played  over  her  lips  because,  as  she  passed  Anna's 
romantic  story  in  review,  she  imagined  herself  simul- 
taneously having  almost  the  same  experiences  with  a 
sort  of  collective  representation  of  all  the  men  who  had 
ever  been  in  love  with  her.  She,  just  like  Anna,  con- 
fessed everything  to  her  husband.  And  the  amazement 
and  perplexity  which  she  imagined  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch  displayed  at  this  confession  caused  her  to  smile. 

With  such  day-dreams  she  reached  the  side  road  that 
led  from  the  highway  to  Vozdvizhenskoye. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

The  coachman  reined  in  his  four  horses,  and  looked 
off  to  the  right  toward  a  field  of  rye  where  some  mu- 
zhiks were  sitting  beside  their  cart.  The  bookkeeper  at 
first  started  to  jump  down,  but  afterward  reconsidered, 
and  shouted,  imperatively  summoning  a  muzhik  to  the 
carriage.  The  breeze  which  had  blown  while  they  were 
in  motion  died  down,  when  they  stopped  ;  the  horse-flies 
persisted  in  sticking  to  the  sweaty  horses,  which  kept 
angrily  shaking  them  off.     The  metallic  sound  of  whet- 


ANNA    KARENINA  135 

ting  scythes,  borne  by  the  breeze  across  from  the  telyega, 
ceased.  One  of  the  peasants  got  up  and  came  over  to 
the  calash.  "  Say,  hurry  up,"  cried  the  bookkeeper, 
angrily,  to  the  muzhik,  who,  in  his  bare  feet,  came 
leisurely  along  the  ruts  of  the  dry  and  Httle-traveled 
road,  "come  here." 

The  old  man,  whose  curly  hair  was  bound  round  with 
a  piece  of  bast,  and  whose  bent  back  was  black  with 
perspiration,  quickened  his  step,  and  came  up  to  the 
calash,  and  took  hold  of  the  rim  with  his  sunburnt  hand. 

"  Vozdvizhenskoye .''  the  manor-house .''  ^  to  the  count's  .-* ' ' 
he  repeated ;  "  why,  all  you  have  to  do  's  to  drive  on  up 
the  hill.  First  turn  to  the  left.  Then  straight  along  the 
preshpekt  and  that  '11  bring  you  there.  Who  do  you 
want.''     The  count  himself  .-^  " 

"  Do  you  know  whether  they  are  at  home,  galubchik .-' " 
asked  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  not  mentioning  names,  for 
she  did  not  know  how  to  ask  for  Anna  even  of  a 
muzhik. 

"  Must  be  at  home,"  said  the  muzhik,  shuffling  along 
in  his  bare  feet  and  leaving  in  the  dust  the  tracks  of  his 
soles  with  their  five  toes.  "  They  must  be  at  home,"  he 
repeated,  evidently  liking  to  talk.  "This  afternoon 
some  new  guests  came.  Guests,  such  quantities  of 
them  !  ....  What  do  you  want,"  he  cried,  addressing  his 
comrade,  who  shouted  something  from  the  cart. 
"They've  all  been  out  on  horseback.  We  saw  them 
go  by.  They  must  be  back  by  this  time.  But  whose 
folks  are  you  .-" '" 

"  We  have  come  from  a  long  way,"  said  the  coachman, 
climbing  upon  the  box.     "  So  then,  it  is  not  far." 

"  I  tell  you,  you  are  almost  there.  If  you  drive  on ....  " 
said  he,  shifting  his  hand  on  the  rim  of  the  calash. 

His  young  comrade,  healthy-looking  and  thick-set, 
also  came  up  to  the  carriage. 

"  Do  you  need  any  help  in  getting  in  the  harvest  ? " 
he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,  galubchik." 

1  Barsky  dvor,  a  dvor,  or  house  and  grounds,  belonging  to  a  barin  oi 
noble. 


136  ANNA   KARENINA 

"  Well,  you  understand,  you  turn  to  the  left  and  then 
you  '11  get  there,"  said  the  muzhik,  evidently  reluctant  to 
part  with  the  strangers  and  anxious  to  talk. 

The  coachman  touched  up  his  horses,  but  they  had 
hardly  started  ere  the  muzhik  cried  :  — 

"Wait!  he!  hold  on!"  cried  two  voices  together 
The  coachman  reined  in  again.  "There  they  come. 
There  they  are,"  cried  the  muzhik.  "  See  what  a  lot 
of  them,"  and  he  pointed  to  four  persons  on  horseback 
and  two  in  a  char  a  bancs  who  were  coming  along  the 
road. 

They  were  Vronsky  and  his  jockey,  Veslovsky  and 
Anna,  on  horseback,  and  the  princess  Varvara  with 
Sviazhsky  in  the  char  a  bancs.  They  had  been  out  to 
ride  and  to  look  at  the  operation  of  some  newly  imported 
reaping-machines. 

When  the  carriage  stopped  the  riders  were  all  walk 
ing  their  horses.  In  front  Anna  rode  with  Veslovsky. 
Anna  rode  at  an  easy  gait  on  a  little  stout  English  cob 
with  a  cropped  mane  and  docked  tail.  Her  pretty  head, 
with  her  dark  ringlets  escaping  from  under  a  tall  hat, 
her  full  shoulders,  her  slender  waist  in  a  tightly  fitting 
amazonka,  and  her  whole  easy,  graceful  horsemanship 
surprised  Dolly.  At  first  it  seemed  to  her  unbecoming 
for  Anna  to  be  riding  horseback.  Darya  Aleksandrovna 
connected  the  idea  of  horseback  riding  for  ladies  with 
the  idea  of  light,  youthful  coquetry,  which  seemed  to 
her  did  not  accord  well  with  Anna's  position  ;  but  as  she 
examined  her  more  closely  she  immediately  became 
reconciled  to  her  going  on  horseback.  Notwithstanding 
all  her  elegance,  everything  about  her  was  so  simple, 
easy,  and  appropriate  in  her  pose  and  in  her  habit  and 
in  her  motions,  that  nothing  could  have  been  more 
natural. 

Next  to  Anna,  on  a  gray,  fiery  cavalry,  horse,  rode 
Vasenka  Veslovsky,  thrusting  his  fat  legs  forward,  and 
evidently  very  well  satisfied  with  himself.  He  still 
wore  his  Scotch  cap  with  its  floating  ribbons,  and 
Darya  Aleksandrovna  could  hardly  restrain  a  smile  of 
amusement  when  she  saw  him. 


ANNA    KARENINA  137 

Behind  them  rode  Vronsky  on  a  dark  chestnut  horse 
cf  purest  blood,  which  was  evidently  spoiling  for  a  gal- 
lop. He  was  sawing  on  the  reins  to  hold  him  back. 
Behind  them  came  a  little  man  in  a  jockey's  livery. 
Sviazhsky  and  the  princess  in  a  new  char  a  batics,  drawn 
by  a  plump  raven-black  trotter,  brought  up  the  rear. 

Anna's  face,  as  she  recognized  Dolly  in  the  little  per- 
son curled  up  in  a  corner  of  the  old  carriage,  suddenly 
grew  bright  with  a  happy  smile,  and,  uttering  a  cry  of 
joy,  she  put  her  cob  to  a  gallop.  Riding  up  to  the 
calash,  she  leaped  off  the  horse  without  any  one's  aid, 
and,  gathering  up  her  skirts,  ran  to  meet  her. 

"I  thought  so,  and  did  not  dare  to  think  so!  What 
pleasure!  you  can't  imagine  my  joy,"  she  said,  pressing 
her  face  to  Dolly's,  kissing  her,  and  then  holding  her  off 
at  arm's  length  and  looking  at  her  with  an  affectionate 
smile.  "  What  a  pleasure,  Aleksei,"  she  said,  glancing 
at  Vronsky,  who  had  also  dismounted,  and  was  com- 
ing toward  them,  "  what  a  piece  of  good  fortune!  " 

Vronsky  came  up,  raising  his  tall  gray  hat.  "  You 
can't  imagine  what  delight  your  visit  gives  us,"  said  he, 
in  a  tone  which  conveyed  a  peculiar  satisfaction,  and  with 
a  smile  which  displayed  his  strong  white  teeth. 

Vasenka,  without  dismounting  from  his  horse,  took 
off  his  beribboned  cap,  and  waved  it  gayly  round  his 
head,  in  honor  of  the  guest. 

"This  is  the  Princess  Varvara,"  began  Anna,  in  reply 
to  a  questioning  look  of  Dolly  as  the  char  a  bancs  came 
up. 

"  Ah ! "  replied  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  and  her  face 
showed  involuntary  annoyance. 

The  Princess  Varvara  was  her  husband's  aunt,  and 
she  knew  her  of  old,  and  did  not  esteem  her.  She 
knew  that  she  had  lived  all  her  lifelong  in  a  humiliating 
dependence  on  rich  relatives ;  and  the  fact  that  she  was 
living  at  Vronsky's,  at  the  house  of  a  stranger  to  her, 
insulted  her  through  her  husband's  family.  Anna 
noticed  the  expression  of  Dolly's  face,  and  was  con- 
fused ;  she  blushed,  and,  dropping  the  train  of  her 
amazonka,  she  tripped  over  it. 


ijS  ANNA    KARENINA 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  went  over  to  the  char  a  bancs 
when  it  had  stopped  and  coolly  greeted  the  Princess  Var- 
vara.  Sviazhsky  was  also  an  acquaintance.  He  asked 
after  his  friend  Levin  and  his  young  wife;  then,  casting 
a  fleeting  glance  at  the  oddly  matched  horses  and  the 
patched  side  of  the  old  carriage,  he  proposed  that  the 
ladies  should  get  into  the  c/ia7'  a  bancs. 

"  I  will  take  this  vehicle  to  go  home  in ;  the  horse  is 
quiet  and  the  princess  is  an  excellent  driver." 

"Oh,  no,"  interrupted  Anna,  coming  up;  "remain  as 
you  are.     I  will  go  home  with  Dolly  in  the  calash." 

Darya  Aleksandrovna's  eyes  were  dazzled  by  the  un- 
exampled elegance  of  the  carriage,  and  the  beauty  of 
the  horses,  and  the  refined  brilliancy  of  the  company 
around  her,  but  more  than  all  was  she  struck  by  the 
change  that  had  taken  place  in  her  old  friend,  her 
dearly  beloved  Anna. 

Any  other  woman,  less  observant,  and  unacquainted 
with  Anna  in  days  gone  by,  and  especially  any  one  who 
had  not  been  under  the  sway  of  such  thoughts  as  had 
occupied  Darya  Aleksandrovna  on  the  way,  would  not 
have  noticed  anything  peculiar  about  Anna.  But  now 
Darya  Aleksandrovna  was  struck  by  the  transient  beauty 
characteristic  of  women  when  they  are  under  the  in- 
fluence of  love,  and  which  she  detected  now  in  Anna's 
face.  Everything  about  her  face  was  extraordinarily 
fascinating:  the  well-defined  dimples  in  her  cheeks  and 
chin,  the  curve  of  her  lips,  the  smile,  which,  as  it  were, 
flitted  over  her  features,  the  gleam  in  her  eyes,  the  grace- 
fulness and  quickness  of  her  movements,  the  richness 
in  the  tones  of  her  voice,  even  the  manner  with  which 
she,  with  a  sort  of  sternly  affectionate  manner,  replied 
to  Veslovsky,  who  had  asked  permission  to  ride  her  cob 
so  as  to  teach  it  to  gallop  by  a  pressure  of  the  leg.  It 
seemed  as  if  she  herself  was  aware  of  this,  and  rejoiced 
in  it. 

When  the  two  ladies  were  seated  together  in  the 
calash,  they  both  suddenly  felt  a  sense  of  constraint. 
Anna  was  confused  at  the  scrutinizingly  questioning  look 
which  Dolly  fixed  on  her,  and  Dolly  because  she  could 


ANNA    KARENINA 


139 


not  help  feeling  ashamed  of  the  dirty  old  calash  in  which 
Anna  had  taken  her  seat  with  her. 

The  coachman,  Filipp,  and  the  bookkeeper  experienced 
the  same  feeling.  The  bookkeeper,  in  order  to  hide  his 
confusion,  fidgeted  about  in  helping  the  ladies  to  be  com- 
fortably seated  ;  but  Filipp,  the  coachman,  frowned  and 
was  loath  to  acknowledge  any  such  superficial  superiority. 
He  put  on  an  ironical  smile  as  he  scrutinized  the  raven- 
black  trotter  harnessed  to  the  cJiar  a  bancs,  and  decided 
in  his  own  mind  that  the  black  trotter  might  do  very  well 
for  a  prominazhe,  but  that  he  could  not  show  forty  versts 
at  a  heat. 

The  muzhiks  had  left  their  telyega,  and  gayly  and 
curiously  were  watching  the  meeting  of  the  friends,  and 
making  their  observations. 

"They  seem  tolerably  glad;  hain't  seen  each  other 
for  some  time,"  remarked  the  curly-haired  old  man. 

"  There,  Uncle  Gerasim,  that  black  gelding  would  haul 
in  the  sheaves  lively !  " 

"  GHan'-ka,  look  !  Is  that  a  woman  in  trousers  .''  " 
asked  another,  pointing  at  Veslovsky,  sitting  on  the  side- 
saddle. 

"  Nye,  muzhik!  see  how  easy  he  rides." 

"  Say,  then,  my  children,  we  shan't  get  another  nap, 
shall  we .?  " 

"  No  more  sleep  now,"  said  the  old  man,  squinting 
his  eyes  and  glancing  at  the  sun  ;  "  past  noon  !  Look  ! 
Now  get  your  hooks  and  to  work." 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

Anna  looked  at  Dolly's  tired,  worn  face,  with  the 
wrinkles  powdered  with  dust,  and  was  on  the  point  of 
saying  that  she  looked  thin ;  but,  realizing  that  she  her- 
self had  grown  more  beautiful  than  ever,  and  that  Dolly's 
eyes  told  her  so,  she  sighed,  and  began  to  talk  about 
herself. 

"You  are  studying  me,"  she  said.  "You  are  won- 
dering if  I  can  be  happy  in  my  position  !     Well,  what 


I40  ANNA    KARENINA 

can  I  say?  It  is  shameful  to  confess  it!  but  I ....  I  am 
unpardonably  happy.  Wl>at  has  happened  is  like  a 
piece  of  enchantment ;  like  a  dream  where  everything 
was  terrible,  agonizing,  and  suddenly  you  wake  up  and 
realize  that  it  was  only  a  nightmare.  I  had  been  asleep, 
I  had  suffered  awful  agonies,  and  now  that  is  all  long, 
long  past.  And  how  especially  happy  I  am  now  that  we 
are  together!"  and  she  looked  at  Dolly  with  a  timid, 
questioning  smile. 

"  How  glad  I  am  !  "  Darya  Aleksandrovna  answered, 
more  coldly  than  she  wished.  "  I  am  glad  for  you;  .... 
but  why  have  you  not  written  me  .'*  " 

"  Why  .''....  Because  I  did  not  dare  to You  knew  my 

position." 

"  Not  dare  ?  to  me  !     If  you  knew  how  I ...." 

Dolly  was  about  to  tell  her  about  the  reflections  she 
had  had  on  the  journey,  but  somehow  it  did  not  seem  to 
her  to  be  the  fitting  place.  "  We  will  have  our  talk  by 
and  by,"  she  added.  "  What  is  that  group  of  buildings, 
or  little  village  rather.^"  she  asked,  wishing  to  change 
the  conversation,  and  pointing  to  some  green  and  red 
roofs  which  appeared  through  the  acacias  and  lilac  trees. 

But  Anna  did  not  reply  to  her  question. 

"  No,  no  !  how  do  you  feel  about  my  position  .''  What 
do  you  think  of  it }  tell  me  !  "  Anna  went  on. 

"  I  think ...."  began  Darya  Aleksandrovna  ;  but  at 
this  instant  Vasenka  Veslovsky,  in  his  short  jacket, 
spurring  the  cob  into  a  trot  with  his  right  leg  and  creak- 
ing terribly  on  the  leather  side-saddle,  went  dashing  by 
them. 

"  It  goes,  Anna  Arkadyevna,"  he  shouted. 

Anna  did  not  even  look  at  him,  but  again  it  seemed 
to  Darya  Aleksandrovna  that  it  was  impossible  to  begin 
on  this  long  conversation  in  the  carriage,  and  so  she  said 
less  than  she  thought. 

"I  do  not  think  about  it  at  all,"  said  she.  "I  love 
you  and  always  have  loved  you.  And  when  we  love 
people  so,  we  love  them  for  what  they  are,  not  for  what 
we  wish  they  were." 

Anna  turned  her  eyes  away  from  her  friend's  face,  half 


ANNA    KARENINA  141 

closing  them  in  order  better  to  take  in  the  meaning  of 
the  words.  This  was  a  new  habit,  which  Dolly  had 
never  seen  in  her  before.  Apparently  she  interpreted 
her  friend's  answer  as  she  wanted,  and  she  looked  at 
Dolly. 

"  If  you  have  any  sins,  they  will  all  be  blotted  out  by 
this  visit  and  by  your  kind  words,"  she  said,  and  Dolly 
saw  that  her  eyes  were  dimmed  with  tears.  She  silently 
took  her  hand. 

"  What  are  those  buildings  .''  What  a  lot  of  them  !  " 
said  Dolly  again,  after  a  moment  of  silence. 

"  Those  are  the  roofs  of  our  buildings,  —  our  barns  and 
stables,"  rephed  Anna.  "  Here  our  park  begins.  It 
was  all  neglected,  but  Aleksei  has  made  it  new  again. 
He  is  very  fond  of  this  kind  of  occupation,  and  to  my 
great  surprise  he  has  developed  a  passion  for  farming.^ 
Ah,  his  is  a  rich  nature !  Whatever  he  undertakes  he 
excels  in.  He  not  only  does  not  get  bored,  but  he  is 
passionately  interested  in  it.  I  do  not  know  how,  but 
he  is  making  a  capital  farmer,  so  economical,  almost 
stingy  —  but  only  in  farm  ways.  For  things  of  other 
sorts  he  will  spend  ten  thousand  rubles  and  never  give 
it  a  thought." 

She  said  this  with  that  joyously  crafty  characteristic 
smile  of  women  when  they  speak  of  the  men  they  love, 
and  the  secret  pecuHarities  which  they  alone  know  about. 

"  Do  you  see  that  large  building  ?  That  is  a  new 
hospital.  I  think  it  will  cost  him  more  than  a  hundred 
thousand.  It  is  his  hobby  just  now.  Do  you  know 
what  made  him  build  it  ?  The  peasants  asked  him  to 
reduce  the  rent  of  some  meadows,  but  he  declined  to  do 
so,  and  I  told  him  he  was  stingy.  Of  course,  it  was  n't 
altogether  that,  but  everything  taken  together,  so  he 
began  to  build  the  hospital  to  prove  my  charge  unjust; 
c'est  line petitesse,  perhaps,  but  I  love  him  the  better  for 
it.  Now  in  a  moment  you  '11  see  the  house.  It  was 
built  by  his  grandfather,  and  the  outside  hasn't  been 
changed  at  all." 

"How  beautiful !  "  cried  Dolly,  with  involuntary  sur- 

*  Khozyaistvo, 


142  ANNA    KARENINA 

prise  at  the  sight  of  a  stately  house  ornamented  with 
columns,  and  surrounded  by  a  park  filled  with  ancient 
trees  of  various  shades  of  green. 

"Isn't  it  beautiful  ?  And  the  view  from  the  second 
story  is  magnificent." 

They  came  into  the  dvor,  or  court,  paved  with  small 
stones  and  ornamented  with  flower-beds;  two  workmen 
were  at  this  moment  surrounding  a  bed  filled  with  loam 
with  roughly  trimmed  stones.  They  stopped  under  a 
covered  entrance. 

"  Oh,  they  have  already  arrived,"  said  Anna,  as  she 
saw  the  saddle-horses  being  led  away.  "  Is  n't  that 
horse  a  pretty  creature  .''  that  cob ;  he 's  my  favorite. 
Bring  him  here  and  give  him  some  sugar  !  Where  is 
the  count } "  she  asked  of  the  two  servants  in  livery 
who  came  hurrying  out  to  receive  them.  "  Ah,  here  he 
is ! "  added  she,  perceiving  Vronsky  with  Veslovsky 
coming  to  meet  them. 

"  Where  shall  w^e  put  the  princess .''  "  asked  Vronsky 
of  Anna,  in  French,  and,  without  waiting  for  an  answer, 
once  more  greeted  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  and  this  time 
he  kissed  her  hand, — "in  the  large  balcony  chamber,  I 
suppose  '^.  " 

"  Oh,  no,  that  is  too  far  off.  Better  put  her  in  the 
corner  chamber.  We  shall  see  more  of  each  other. 
Come,  come,"  said  she,  giving  her  favorite  horse  some 
sugar  which  the  lackey  had  brought. 

"  Et  voiis  oubliez  voire  devoir,'"  she  added,  turning  to 
Veslovsky,  who  was  already  in  the  porch. 

"Pardon,  J' en  ai  tout  plein  les  poches,"  he  replied, 
smiling,  and  thrusting  his  fingers  into  his  waistcoat 
pocket. 

"  Mais  vons  venes  trop  tard,''  she  replied,  wiping 
her  hand,  which  the  horse  had  mouthed  in  taking  the 
sugar. 

Anna  turned  to  Dolly, — ■ 

"You'll  stay  with  us  a  long  time,"  said  she.  "  Only 
one  day .''     That  is  impossible." 

"That  is  what  I  promised,  —  and  the  children,"  an- 
swered the  latter,  ashamed  at  the  wretched  appearance 


ANNA    KARENINA  14.3 

of  her  poor  little  traveling-bag  and  at  the  dust  with 
which  she  felt  herself  covered. 

"  No,  Dolly,  diishenka However,  we  '11  talk  of  that 

by  and  by.  Come  up  to  your  room."  And  Anna  con- 
ducted Dolly  up-stairs. 

The  room  was  not  the  chamber  of  honor  which 
Vronsky  offered  her,  but  one  where  she  could  be  nearer 
Anna  ;  but  even  this  room,  though  they  felt  it  needful 
to  apologize  for  it,  was  furnished  with  a  luxury  such  as 
she  was  not  accustomed  to,  and  which  recalled  the  most 
sumptuous  hotels  that  she  had  seen  abroad. 

"  Well,  dushenka !  how  glad  I  am  !  "  said  Anna,  seat- 
ing herself  for  a  moment  in  her  riding-habit.  Tell  me 
about  your  family.  I  saw  Stiva  just  an  instant,  but  he 
could  not  tell  me  anything  about  the  children.  How  is 
my  darling  Tania .-'     She  must  be  a  great  girl !  " 

"  Yes,  very  large,"  answered  Dolly,  laconically,  as- 
tonished that  she  answered  so  coolly  about  her  children. 
"  We  are  all  living  charmingly  with  the  Levins,"  she 
added. 

"  There  !  If  I  had  known,"  said  Anna,  "  that  you 
would  n't  look  down  on  me,  ....  you  all  would  have  come 
here.  Stiva  is  an  old  and  good  friend  of  Aleksei's," 
said  Anna,  blushing. 

"  Yes  !  but  we  are  so  well ....  "  began  Dolly  in  con- 
fusion. 

"Well!  I  am  so  happy,  I  talk  nonsense;  only, 
dushenka,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Anna,  kissing 
her  again.  **  But  you  would  not  tell  me  what  you  think 
about  me;  I  want  to  know  all.  But  I  am  so  glad  that 
you  see  me  just  as  I  am.  My  only  idea,  you  see,  is  to 
avoid  making  people  think  that  I  am  making  any  dis- 
play. I  don't  want  to  make  any  display  ;  I  want  simply 
to  live  and  not  do  any  harm  to  any  one  but  myself. 
Am  I  not  right  about  it.^  However,  we'll  talk  of  all 
this  at  our  leisure.  Now  I  'm  going  to  change  my  dress; 
I  will  send  you  a  waiting-maid." 


144  ANNA    KARENINA 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Darya  Aleksandrovna,  when  left  alone,  examined 
her  chamber  with  the  eyes  of  a  genuine  housekeeper. 
All  that  she  saw  as  she  went  through  the  house,  and  all 
that  she  saw  in  the  room,  impressed  her  by  its  richness 
and  elegance  ;  and  this  new  European  luxury,  which  she 
had  read  about  in  English  novels,  she  had  never  seen 
before  in  Russia,  —  certainly  not  in  the  country.  All 
was  new,  from  the  French  tapestries  to  the  carpet  which 
covered  the  whole  room,  the  bed  with  its  hair  mattress, 
the  marble  toilet-table,  the  bronzes  on  the  mantel,  the 
rugs,  the  curtains,  —  all  was  costly  and  new. 

The  smart  waiting-maid  who  came  to  offer  her  ser- 
vices was  dressed  with  much  more  style  than  Dolly,  and 
was  as  costly  and  new  as  the  whole  room.  Darya  Alek- 
sandrovna liked  her  good  breeding,  her  dexterity,  and 
her  helpfulness ;  but  she  felt  confused  at  taking  out  be- 
fore her  her  poor  toilet  articles  from  her  bag,  especially 
a  mended  night-dress,  which  she  had  happened  to  put  in 
by  mistake  from  among  her  oldest  ones.  She  was  ashamed 
of  the  very  patches  and  mended  places  which  gave  her 
a  sense  of  pride  at  home.  It  was  clear  that  for  six 
nightgowns,  it  would  take  twenty-four  arshins  of  nain- 
sook at  sixty-five  kopeks,  amounting  to  more  than  fifteen 
rubles,  besides  the  cost  of  the  trimmings ;  and  these  fif- 
teen rubles  were  saved ;  but  in  the  presence  of  this  brill- 
iant attendant  she  felt  not  so  much  ashamed  as  awkward. 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  felt  great  relief  when  her  old- 
time  acquaintance,  Annushka,  came  into  her  room  to  take 
the  place  of  the  dashing  chambermaid,  who  was  needed 
by  her  mistress. 

Annushka  was  evidently  very  glad  at  the  arrival  of 
her  mistress's  friend,  and  talked  incessantly.  Dolly 
noticed  that  she  was  eager  to  express  her  opinion  about 
her  mistress's  position,  and  about  the  love  and  devotion 
which  the  count  showed  to  Anna  Arkady evna ;  but  she 
peremptorily  stopped  her  as  soon  as  she  began  to  talk 
on  this  topic. 


ANNA    KARENINA 


145 


**  I  grew  up  with  Anna  Arkadyevna,  and  love  her 
more  than  the  whole  world.  It  's  not  for  us  to  judge 
her,  and  she  seems  to  love...." 

"  Please  have  these  washed,  if  it  is  possible,"  said 
Darya  Aleksandrovna,   interrupting   her. 

"  I  will  do  so.  We  have  two  women  especially  for  the 
laundry,  but  the  washing  is  done  all  by  machinery.  The 
count  looks  out  for  everything.  He  is  such  a  hus- 
band ...." 

Dolly  was  glad  when  Anna  came  in  and  put  an  end 
to  the  babbling  Annushka's  confidences. 

Anna  had  put  on  a  very  simple  batiste  gown.  Dolly 
noticed  particularly  this  simple  gown.  She  knew  what 
this  simplicity  meant,  and  how  much  money  it  repre- 
sented. 

"  An  old  acquaintance,"  said  Anna  to  Annushka. 

Anna  now  was  no  longer  confused.  She  was  per- 
fectly calm  and  self-possessed.  Dolly  saw  that  now  she 
was  entirely  free  from  the  impression  which  her  coming 
had  at  first  produced,  and  had  assumed  that  superficial 
tone  of  indifference  which,  as  it  were,  closed  the  door  to 
the  expression  of  real  thought  and  feelings. 

"  Well,  and  how  is  your  little  daughter  ? "  asked 
Dolly. 

"Ani.''"  —  for  so  she  called  her  daughter  Anna  — 
"  very  well.  Her  health  is  much  better.  Should  you 
like  to  see  her .-'  Come,  and  I'll  show  her  to  you.  We 
have  had  great  trouble  with  her,"  she  went  on  to  relate. 
"  We  had  an  Italian  for  her  nurse;  good,  but  so  stupid : 
we  wanted  to  send  her  back,  but  the  little  thing  is  so 
much  attached  to  her,  we  still  keep  her." 

"But  how  have  you  done  about...."  began  Dolly, 
wishing  to  ask  about  the  child's  name;  but,  as  she  saw 
Anna's  countenance  grow  suddenly  dark,  she  changed 
the  ending  of  the  question.     "  Have  you  weaned  her.''  " 

Anna  understood. 

"  That  is  not  what  you  were  going  to  ask.  You  were 
thinking  of  the  child's  name,  were  n't  you  ?  This  tor- 
ments Aleksei  ;  she  has  no  name;  that  is,  she  is  a 
Karenin,"  and  she  closed  her  eyes  so  that  only  the  lashes 
VOL.  III.  — 10 


146  ANNA    KARENINA 

were  visible "  However,"   she  added,  her  face  sud 

denly  lighting  up  again,  "  we  will  talk  again  about  all 
that;  come,  and  I'll  show  her  to  you.  Elle  est  trh 
gentille ;  she  is  already  beginning  to  creep." 

In  the  nursery  there  was  the  same  sumptuousness  as 
had  struck  Darya  Aleksandrovna  throughout  the  rest  of 
the  house,  only  to  an  even  higher  degree.  There  were 
baby-coaches  imported  from  England,  and  instruments 
for  teaching  children  to  walk,  and  a  peculiarly  arranged 
divan  like  a  billiard  table  for  creeping,  bath-tubs,  swings. 
All  were  new,  beautiful,  solid,  of  English  make,  and 
evidently  very  costly.  The  room  was  large,  very  high- 
studded,  and  light. 

When  they  entered  the  little  girl  with  only  her  shirt 
on  was  seated  in  an  arm-chair  by  the  table,  and  was  eat- 
ing her  broth  and  spilling  it  all  over  her  bosom.  A 
Russian  maid-servant  who  assisted  in  the  nursery  was 
helping  her,  and  at  the  same  time  was  apparently  her- 
self eating.  Neither  the  Italian  nurse  nor  the  nurse- 
maid was  present ;  they  were  in  the  next  room,  and  could 
be  heard  talking  together  in  a  strange  French  jargon 
which  was  the  only  means  they  had  of  communicating 
their  ideas  to  each  other. 

The  English  maid,  a  tall,  sprucely  dressed  woman  with 
a  disagreeable  face  and  an  untrustworthy  expression, 
came  into  the  doorway  shaking  her  light  brown  curls 
as  soon  as  she  heard  Anna's  voice,  and  immediately 
began  to  offer  her  excuses,  although  Anna  had  not 
chidden  her.  At  every  word  Anna  spoke  the  English 
maid  would  several  times  repeat  the  phrase,  "  Yes,  my 
lady." 

The  dark-browed,  dark-haired,  rosy  little  girl,  with 
her  strong,  pretty  little  form,  very  much  pleased  Darya 
Aleksandrovna  in  spite  of  the  unfriendly  look  with  which 
she  gazed  at  the  stranger ;  her  healthy  appearance  also 
pleased  her,  and  her  way  of  creeping.  Not  one  of  her 
own  children  had  learned  so  early  to  creep.  This  little 
girl,  when  she  was  put  down  on  the  carpet  and  her  dress 
was  tucked  up  behind,  was  wonderfully  beautiful.  With 
her  brilliant  black  eyes  she  gazed  up  at  her  elders  like 


ANNA   KARENINA  147 

a  pretty  little  animal,  evidently  delighting  in  the  fact  that 
they  admired  her,  and  she  smiled  ;  and,  putting  out  her 
lags  sidewise,  she  energetically  crept  about,  now  going 
su'iftly  backward,  and  again  darting  forward,  and  clutch- 
i;^.g  things  with  her  little  lingers. 

But  the  whole  atmosphere  of  the  nursery,  and  especially 
the  EngHsh  maid,  struck  Darya  Aleksandrovna  very  un- 
pleasantly. Only  by  the  supposition  that  no  respectable 
person  would  consent  to  serve  in  a  household  as  irregular 
as  Anna's,  could  she  understand  how  Anna,  with  her 
knowledge  of  people,  could  be  willing  to  put  up  with 
such  an  unsympathetic,  vulgar  maid. 

Darya  Aleksandrovna,  after  a  few  words,  observed 
that  Anna,  the  nurse,  the  maid,  and  the  child  were  not 
much  wonted  to  each  other,  and  that  the  mother  was 
almost  a  stranger  in  this  part  of  the  house.  She  wanted, 
to  find  a  plaything  for  the  little  girl  and  did  not  know 
where  it  was  kept.  Strangest  of  all,  in  answering  the 
question  how  many  teeth  the  child  had,  she  made  a  mis- 
take, and  did  not  know  anything  about  the  last  two. 

"  It  is  always  a  grief  to  me  that  I  am  so  useless  here," 
said  Anna,  as  they  went  out,  holding  up  the  train  of  her 
dress  so  that  it  should  not  catch  on  any  of  the  toys  by 
the  door.     "  It  was  not  so  with  my  oldest." 

"  I  thought,  on  the  contrary  ...."  began  Dolly,  timidly. 

"  Oh,  no  !  You  know  that  I  have  seen  Serozha  again," 
said  she,  half  shutting  her  eyes  and  looking  fixedly 
before  her,  as  if  she  sought  for  something  far  away. 
"  However,  we  '11  talk  about  that  by  and  by.  You  can't 
believe  —  but  I  am  like  a  person  dying  of  starvation, 
who  finds  a  banquet  before  her,  and  does  not  know 
what  to  begin  with.  You  and  the  talk  I  am  going  to 
have  with  you  are  this  banquet  for  me.  With  whom 
could  I  speak  openly  if  not  with  you .''  I  don't  know 
what  topic  to  take  up  first.  Mais  je  ne  vous  ferai  grace 
de  rien}     I  must  tell  you  all. 

"  Well,  I  want  to  give  you  a  sketch  now  of  the  people 
you  will  meet  here,"  she  began.  "  F'irst,  the  Princess 
Varvara.     You  know  her,  and  I  know  your  opinion  and 

^  I  shall  not  spaii;  yuu  anything. 


148  ANNA    KARENINA 

Stiva's  in  regard  to  her.  Stiva  says  her  whole  aim  ot 
Hfe  consists  in  proving  her  preeminence  over  Aunt 
Katerina  Pavlovna.  That  is  all  true  of  her ;  but  she 
is  good,  I  assure  you,  and  I  am  so  grateful  to  her.  At 
Petersburg  there  was  a  time  when  ;/;/  chaperon  was 
indispensable.  Then  she  came  along  just  in  time.  It 
is  really  true  ;  she  is  good.  She  made  my  position  much 
easier.  I  see  you  don't  know  how  difficult  my  position 
was....  there  in  Petersburg!"  she  added.  "Here  I  am 
very  comfortable  and  happy.  But  about  this  afterward. 
But  I  must  tell  you  about  our  guests.  Then  there 's 
Sviazhsky  ;  he  is  the  marshal  of  the  district/  and  a  very 
clever  man,  and  he  needed  Aleksei  for  something.  You 
see,  with  his  fortune,  now,  as  we  live  in  the  country, 
Aleksei  can  wield  a  wide  influence.  Then  Tushkievitch  ; 
you  have  met  him;  he  was  at  Betsy's;  but  they  sent 
him  off,  and  he  came  to  visit  us.  As  Aleksei'  says,  he 
is  one  of  those  very  agreeable  men,  if  one  takes  him 
just  as  he  wishes  to  appear,  ct puis  il  est  conime  il  faut, 
as  the  Princess  Varvara  says.  And  then  Veslovsky .... 
you  know  him.  A  very  good  young  fellow,"  she  said, 
and  a  mischievous  smile  curled  her  lips.  "  How  about 
that  absurd  story  he  told  of  Levin .''  Veslovsky  told 
Aleksei,  and  we  don't  believe  it.  //  est  tres  gentil 
ct  naif^'  she  added,  with  the  same  smile.  "  I  have 
to  entertain  all  these  people,  because  men  need  amuse- 
ment, and  Aleksei  needs  society ;  and  we  have  to  make 
it  lively  and  gay,  so  that  Aleksei  won't  want  some- 
thing new.  We  also  have  with  us  the  superintendent. 
He  is  a  German,  a  very  good  man,  who  understands  his 
business ;  Aleksei  has  great  esteem  for  him.  Then 
there  's  the  doctor,  a  young  man  who  is  not  exactly  a 
Nihilist,  but,  you  know,  he  eats  with  his  knife,  but  a 
very  good  doctor.     Then  the  architect,  —  luie petit ecour." 

*  Predvodityel,  marshal  of  the  nobility. 


ANNA   KARENINA  149 


CHAPTER  XX 

"Well,  princess,  here  we  have  Dolly,  whom  you 
wished  so  much  to  see,"  said  Anna,  as  she  and  Darya 
Aleksandrovna  came  out  on  the  great  stone  terrace 
where  the  Princess  Varvara  was  sitting  in  the  shade, 
with  her  embroidery  frame  in  front  of  her,  making  a 
chair  cover  for  Count  AlekseT  Kirillovitch.  "She  says 
that  she  does  not  want  anything  before  dinner,  but 
supposing  you  order  luncheon  brought  in,  while  I  go 
and  find  the  gentlemen." 

The  Princess  Varvara  gave  Dolly  a  gracious '  and 
somewhat  condescending  reception,  and  immediately 
began  to  explain  that  she  had  come  to  live  with  Anna 
because  she  loved  her  more  than  her  sister,  Katerina 
Pavlovna,  —  that  was  the  aunt  that  had  superintended 
Anna's  education,  —  and  because,  now  when  all  were 
abandoning  Anna,  she  considered  it  her  duty  to  help 
her  at  this  trying  period  of  transition. 

"  Her  husband  is  going  to  grant  her  a  divorce,  and 
then  I  shall  go  back  to  my  solitude  ;  but,  however  pain- 
ful it  may  be,  I  shall  stay  here  for  the  present,  and  not 
imitate  the  example  of  others.  And  how  kind  you  are  ; 
how  good  of  you  to  make  this  visit !  They  live  exactly 
like  the  very  best  married  people.  Let  God  judge  them  ; 
it  is  not  for  us.  It  was  just  so  with  Biriuzovsky  and 
Madame  Avenyef,  and  then  Vasiliyef  and  Madame 
Mamonov,  and  Liza  Neptunova.  You  see  no  one  says 
anything  about  them,  and  in  the  end  they  will  be  re- 
ceived. And  then  cest  lui  ijiterieur  si  joli,  si  conimc  it 
faut.  Tout-a-fait  a  Vanglaise.  On  se  reiinit  le  matin 
an  breakfeast  et puis  on  se  separe}  Every  one  does  just 
as  he  pleases  till  dinner-time.  They  dine  at  seven. 
Stiva  did  very  wisely  to  send  you  ;  he  would  better  keep 
on  good  terms  with  them.  You  know  the  count  has 
great   influence  through   his    mother    and    his    brother. 

'  They  have  a  perfect  estahlishmenl,  and  the  inside  of  their  house  is  so 
charming,  so  styhsh.  It  is  altogether  English.  The  family  meet?  at  break- 
fast and  then  separates. 


I50 


ANNA    KARENINA 


And  then  they  do  so  much  good.  Has  he  told  you 
about  his  hospital  ?  Ca  sera  admirable !  Everything 
from  Paris." 

This  conversation  was  interrupted  by  Anna,  who  re- 
turned to  the  terrace,  followed  by  the  gentlemen,  whom 
she  had  found  in  the  billiard-room. 

Considerable  time  still  remained  before  dinner,  the 
weather  was  beautiful,  and  so  various  propositions  were 
made  for  their  amusement  during  the  two  hours  before 
them. 

There  was  every  facility  for  diversion  there  at  Voz- 
dvizhenskoye  and  many  of  them  were  very  different 
from  what  they  had  at  Pokrovskoye. 

"  Une  partie  de  laivn  tennis,''  proposed  Veslovsky, 
with  his  gay,  contagious  smile.  "  I  '11  take  one  side 
with  you  again,  Anna  Arkadyevna." 

"  No,  it  is  hot ;  suppose  we  go  into  the  park,  and  take 
Darya  Aleksandrovna  out  in  the  boat  to  show  her  the 
landscape,"  said  Vronsky. 

"  I  am  agreeable  to  anything,"  said  Sviazhsky. 

"  I  think  Dolly  would  like  to  do  that  better  than  any- 
thing else,"  said  Anna.     "  So  then  the  boat-ride  it  is." 

That  having  been  decided,  Veslovsky  and  Tushkie- 
vitch  went  to  the  landing,  agreeing  to  get  the  boat 
ready,  and  the  two  couples  took  the  path  to  the  park ; 
Anna  walked  with  Sviazhsky,  and  Dolly  with  Vronsky. 

Dolly  was  somewhat  confused  and  embarrassed  by 
this  absolutely  novel  environment  in  which  she  found 
herself.  Abstractly,  theoretically,  she  not  only  justified, 
but  even  approved,  of  Anna's  conduct.  Like  the  major- 
ity of  irreproachably  virtuous  women,  wearying  often  of 
the  monotony  of  a  virtuous  life,  Dolly  from  a  distance 
excused  illicit  love,  and  even  envied  it  a  little.  More- 
over, she  loved  Anna  with  all  her  heart. 

But  in  reality,  finding  her  among  these  strangers,  with 
their  fashionable  ways,  which  were  quite  novel  to  her, 
she  was  thoroughly  ill  at  ease.  Especially  odious  to  her 
was  it  to  see  the  Princess  Varvara  forgiving  everything, 
because  she  could  thereby  share  in  her  niece's  luxury. 

Abstractly  and  on  general  principles  Dolly  excused 


ANNA    KARENINA 


151 


Anna's  conduct,  but  the  sight  of  the  man  for  whom  she 
had  taken  this  step  was  unpleasant  to  her.  Moreover, 
Vronsky  was  not  congenial  to  her  at  any  time ;  she 
thought  him  very  haughty,  and  could  see  no  reason 
except  his  wealth  to  justify  his  haughtiness.  But  in 
spite  of  all  her  will-power,  there* in  his  own  establish- 
ment he  more  than  ever  impressed  her  with  a  sense  of 
his  importance  and  she  could  not  feel  at  ease  with  him ; 
she  felt  just  as  she  had  felt  when  the  maid  took  the 
nightgown  from  her  valise.  Just  as  before  the  maid  she 
had  felt,  not  exactly  ashamed,  but  awkward,  on  account 
of  the  patches,  so  now  with  Vronsky  she  felt  all  the 
time,  not  exactly  ashamed,  but  uncomfortable. 

Dolly  felt  confused  and  cast  about  in  her  mind  for' 
something  to  talk  about. 

Although  she  felt  sure  that  he  with  his  pride  might 
be  displeased  if  she  praised  his  house  and  park,  never- 
theless, finding  no  other  topic  of  conversation,  she  re- 
marked that  she  Hked  his  house  very  much. 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  very  handsome  building,  and  in  good  old 
style,"  replied  the  count. 

"  I  liked  the  court  in  front  of  the  steps ;  was  it 
always  so  .'* " 

"  Oh,  no !  "  said  he,  and  his  face  shone  with  satisfac- 
tion.    "  If  you  had  only  seen  it  in  the  spring !  " 

And  at  first  coldly,  but  warming  as  he  went  on,  he 
pointed  out  to  Dolly  the  many  improvements  he  had 
made  in  the  house  and  park.  It  was  evident  that  Vron- 
sky, having  consecrated  much  labor  to  the  improvement 
and  beautification  of  his  establishment,  really  felt  the 
need  of  appreciation  from  some  new  person,  and  that  he 
was  not  a  little  gratified  at  Darya  Aleksandrovna's  praise. 

"  If  you  would  like  to  look  into  the  hospital  and  are 
not  tired,  we  might  go  that  way.  It  is  not  far.  Come, 
let  us  go  !     Shall  we,  Anna  ?  " 

"Yes  —  shall  we  not  .!•  "  she  said,  turning  to  Svi- 
azhsky  ;  "  mais  il  ne  faut  pas  laisser  Ic  paiivre  Veslovsky 
et   TnsJikievitcJi  sc  viorfondrc  Id  dans  le  bateau  !  ^     We 

1  But  we  must  not  leave  these  gentlemen  to  wait  in  vain  for  us  in  the 

b'jat. 


152 


ANNA   KARENINA 


must  send  word  to  them.  Yes.  This  is  a  monument 
which  he  will  leave  here,"  said  she  to  Dolly,  with  the 
same  shrewd  knowing  smile  on  her  face  as  when  she 
first  spoke  of  the  hospital. 

"  Oh,  capital  work  !  "  said  Sviazhsky ;  and  then,  not  to 
seem  assenting  from  ftiere  politeness,  he  added  :  — 

"  I  am  surprised,  count,  that  you,  who  are  doing  so 
much  for  the  peasants'  sanitary  advantage,  are  so  indif- 
ferent to  schools." 

^' C'est  devemi  tellejnefit  coni7mm,  les  e'coles,"  replied 
Vronsky.  "  You  must  know  I  do  this  to  amuse  myself. 
This  is  the  way  to  the  hospital,"  said  he,  addressing 
Darya  Aleksandrovna,  pointing  to  a  side-path  which 
led  from  the  avenue.  The  ladies  put  up  their  sun- 
shades and  walked  along  the  side-path. 

After  making  a  few  turns  and  passing  through  a 
wicket-gate,  Darya  Aleksandrovna  saw  before  her  on 
rising  ground  a  large  red  building  of  complicated  archi- 
tecture not  completely  finished.  The  iron  roof,  not  as 
yet  painted,  glittered  in  the  sun.  Near  the  hospital 
itself  there  was  another  building  going  up,  in  the  midst 
of  the  woods,  and  workmen  in  aprons  stood  on  scaffold- 
ings laying  the  bricks,  taking  mortar  from  buckets  and 
smoothing  it  with  trowels. 

"  How  rapidly  the  work  is  going  on,"  remarked 
Sviazhsky.  "The  last  time  I  was  here  the  roof  was 
not  in  position." 

"  It  will  be  ready  by  autumn,  for  the  inside  is 
already  nearly  finished,"  said  Anna. 

"  And  what  is  this  other  new  building  .'*  " 

"  A  house  for  the  doctor,  and  a  pharmacy,"  replied 
Vronsky ;  and,  seeing  the  architect,  in  a  short  overcoat, 
approaching,  he  excused  himself  to  the  ladies,  and  went 
to  meet  him. 

Going  round  the  mortar-pit,  from  which  the  workmen 
were  getting  lime,  he  joined  the  architect  and  began  to 
talk  angrily  with  him. 

"  The  pediment  will  be  much  too  low,"  he  replied 
to  Anna,  who  asked  him  what  the  discussion  was 
about. 


ANNA   KARENINA  153 

"  I  said  that  the  foundation  ought  to  be  raised,"  said 
Anna. 

"  Yes  !  Of  course,  it  would  have  been  better,  Anna 
Arkadyevna,"  said  the  architect;  "yes,  it  was  amis- 
take." 

"  Yes,  indeed !  I  am  very  much  interested  in  this," 
said  Anna,  in  reply  to  Sviazhsky,  who  expressed  his 
surprise  that  the  architect  spoke  to  her  as  he  did. 
"The  new  building  must  correspond  with  the  hospital. 
But  this  was  thought  of  afterward,  and  begun  without 
any  plan." 

Having  concluded  his  talk  with  the  architect,  Vronsky 
joined  the  ladies  and  conducted  them  into  the  hospital. 
Though  on  the  outside  they  were  already  placing  the 
cornices  and  were  painting  the  lower  part  of  the  build- 
ing, on  the  upper  floors  almost  everything  was  done. 
They  went  up  by  a  broad  cast-iron  staircase  to  the 
second  story,  and  entered  the  first  great  room.  The 
walls  were  stuccoed  for  marble,  the  great  glass  win- 
dows were  already  in  place  ;  only  the  parquetry  floor 
was  as  yet  to  be  finished,  and  the  carpenters,  engaged 
in  planing  the  squares,  left  off  their  work,  and,  removing 
the  tapes  which  bound  their  hair,  greeted  the  visitors. 

"  This  is  the  reception-room,"  said  Vronsky.  "  In 
this  there  will  be  not  much  besides  the  desk,  a  table, 
and  a  cupboard." 

"  Here,  come  this  way.  Don't  go  near  the  window," 
said  Anna,  touching  the  paint  to  see  if  it  was  dry. 
"  Aleksei,  the  paint  is  beginning  to  dry." 

From  the  reception-room  they  went  into  the  corridor. 
Here  Vronsky  explained  the  new  system  of  ventilation  ; 
then  he  showed  them  the  marble  bath-rooms  and  the 
beds  with  extra  spring  mattresses.  Then  he  showed 
them  one  after  the  other  the  wards,  the  laundry,  then 
the  heating  apparatus,  then  the  noiseless  barrows  for 
wheeling  articles  along  the  corridors,  and  many  other 
contrivances.  Dolly  was  simply  amazed  at  the  sight  of 
so  many  novelties,  and,  wishing  to  understand  it  thor- 
oughly, she  asked  a  great  many  questions,  which 
Vronsky  answered  with  the  greatest  alacrity. 


^54 


ANNA    KARENINA 


"  Yes,  I  think  this  hospital  will  be  the  only  one  of  the 
kind  in  Russia,"  remarked  Sviazhsky. 

"  Shall  you  not  have  a  lying-in  department  ?  "  asked 
Dolly.  "  That  is  so  necessary  in  this  country.  I  have 
often  thought ...." 

In  spite  of  his  politeness,  Vronsky  interrupted  her. 

"  This  is  not  an  obstetrical  institution,  but  a  hospital, 
and  is  meant  for  all  except  infectious  diseases,"  said  he. 
"  And  now  look  at  this,"  and  he  showed  Darya  Alek- 
sandrovna  a  newly  imported  chair  designed  for  con- 
valescents. "  Will  you  look  at  it,  please  .-*  "  He  sat 
down  in  the  chair  and  began  to  move  it  along.  "  He 
can't  walk  ....or  he  is  still  weak,  or  he  has  a  iame  leg, 
but  still  he  must  have  the  air,  and  so  he  goes  out  and 
enjoys  himself !  " 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  was  interested  in  everything 
everything  pleased  her  very  much,  but,  more  than  all 
Vronsky   himself  pleased  her  with   his   natural   nai've 
enthusiasm. 

"  Yes,  he  is  certainly  a  good,  lovable  man,"  she 
thought,  not  listening  to  what  he  said,  but  looking  at 
him  and  trying  to  penetrate  his  expression,  and  then 
momentarily  looking  at  Anna.  He  pleased  her  so  much 
with  his  animation  that  she  understood  how  it  was  that 
Anna  came  to  love  him. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

"  No ;  the  princess  must  be  tired,  and  the  horses  will 
not  interest  her,"  said  Vronsky  to  Anna,  who  had  pro- 
posed to  show  Dolly  the  stable,  where  there  was  a  new 
stallion  that  Sviazhsky  wished  to  see.  "  You  go  there, 
and  I  will  escort  the  princess  back  to  the  house.  And, 
if  you  please,"  added  he  to  Dolly,  "we  will  talk  a  little 
on  the  way,  if  that  will  be  agreeable." 

"  I  know  nothing  about  horses,  so  I  shall  very  will- 
ingly go  with  you,"  said  Darya  Aleksandrovna. 

She  saw  by  Vronsky's  face  that  he  wanted  something 
of  her,  nor  was  she  mistaken.     As  soon  as  they  had 


ANNA    KARENINA  155 

passed  through  the  wicket-gate  again  into  the  park,  he 
looked  in  the  direction  where  Anna  was  gone,  and,  hav- 
ing convinced  himself  that  they  were  out  of  her  sight 
and  hearing,  he  began  :  — 

"  You  have  guessed  that  I  wanted  to  have  a  talk  with 
you,"  said  he,  looking  at  her  with  his  smiling  eyes.  "  I 
am  not  mistaken  in  believing  that  you  are  Anna's  friend, 
am  I  ?  " 

He  took  off  his  hat,  and,  taking  out  his  handkerchief 
wiped  his  head,  which  was  growing  bald. 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  made  no  reply,  and  only  gazed 
at  him  in  alarm.  Now  that  she  was  entirely  alone  with 
him,  she  suddenly  felt  terror-stricken ;  his  smiling  eyes 
and  the  stern  expression  of  his  face  frightened  her. 

The  most  diverse  suppositions  as  to  what  he  might  be 
wanting  to  talk  with  her  about  chased  one  another 
through  her  mind. 

"  Can  it  be  that  he  is  going  to  ask  me  to  come  with 
my  children  and  make  them  a  visit,  and  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  decline  ?  or  is  it  that  he  wants  me  to  find 
society  for  Anna  when  she  comes  to  Moscow  .\...  Or  is 
he  going  to  speak  of  Vasenka  Veslovsky  and  his  rela- 
tions to  Anna  ?  Or  can  it  be  about  Kitty,  and  that  he 
wants  to  confess  that  he  was  to  blame  toward  her.^  " 

She  thought  over  everything  that  might  be  disagree- 
able, but  never  suspected  what  he  really  wanted  to  talk 
with  her  about. 

"You  have  such  an  influence  over  Anna,  she  is  so 
fond  of  you,"  said  he,  "help  me." 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  looked  timidly  and  question- 
ingly  into  Vronsky's  energetic  face,  which,  as  they 
passed  under  the  linden  trees,  was  now  lighted  up  by 
the  flecking  sunbeams  and  then  again  darkened  by  the 
shadows,  and  she  waited  for  him  to  proceed  ;  but  he, 
catching  his  cane  in  the  paving-stones,  walked  in  silence 
by  her  side. 

"  Of  all  Anna's  friends,  you  are  the  only  one  who  has 
come  to  see  her  —  I  do  not  count  the  Princess  Varvara 
—  I  know  very  well  it  is  not  because  you  approve  of  our 
position ;    it  is  because  you   love  Anna,  and,   knowing 


156  ANNA    KARENINA 

the  cruelty  of  her  position,  want  to  help  her.  Am  1 
right?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  shutting  up  her 
sunshade,  "but ....  " 

"  No,"  he  interrupted,  and  he  involuntarily  stopped 
and  obliged  her  to  stop  also,  though  he  had  no  intention 
of  putting  his  companion  into  an  awkward  situation. 
"  No  one  feels  more  strongly  and  completely  the  cruelty 
of  Anna's  position  than  I  do.  And  you  will  realize  this 
if  you  will  do  me  the  honor  to  believe  that  I  am  not 
heartless.  I  am  the  cause  of  her  being  in  this  position, 
and  therefore  I  feel  it." 

"I  understand,"  said  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  invol- 
untarily admiring  him  for  the  honest  and  straight- 
forward way  in  which  he  said  this.  "But  for  the  very 
reason  that  you  feel  yourself  the  cause  I  fear  you  are 
inclined  to  exaggerate,"  said  she.  "  Her  position  in 
society  is  difficult,  I  admit." 

"In  society  it  is  hell!"  said  he,  frowning  gloomily; 
"  you  can't  conceive  moral  tortures  worse  than  those 
which  Anna  endured  at  Petersburg  during  the  fortnight 
we  were  there  ;  and  I  beg  you  to  believe .... " 

"Yes,  but  here .''....  And  so  far  neither  she  nor  you 
feel  the  need  of  a  society  life."  .... 

"  Society!  why  should  I  need  it  ? "  exclaimed  Vronsky, 
scornfully. 

"  Up  to  the  present  time,  and  perhaps  it  will  be  so 
always,  you  are  calm  and  happy.  I  see  in  Anna  that 
she  is  happy,  perfectly  happy,  and  she  has  already  told 
me  that  she  is,"  said  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  smiling. 

And  while  she  spoke  the  doubt  arose  in  her  mind  :  "  Is 
Anna  really  happy  ?  " 

But  Vronsky,  it  seemed,  had  no  doubt  on  that  score :  — 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know  that  she  has  revived  after  all  her 
sufferings.  She  is  happy....  she  is  happy  now.  But 
I  ? "  said  Vronsky.  "  I  am  afraid  of  what  the  future 
has  in  store  for  us  ....  excuse  me,  do  you  want  to  go  ? " 

"No,  it  is  immaterial." 

"  Well,  then,  let  us  sit  down  here." 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  sat  down  on  a  garden  bench 


ANNA    KARENINA  157 

in  a  nook  of  the  walk.  He  was  standing  in  front  of 
her. 

"  I  see  that  she  seems  happy,"  he  repeated ;  and  the 
doubt  whether  Anna  was  happy  again  rose  in  Dstrya 
Aleksandrovna's  mind  more  strongly  than  ever.  "  But 
will  it  last .''  Whether  we  did  right  or  wrong  is  a  hard 
question ;  but  the  die  is  cast,"  he  said,  changing  Irom 
Russian  to  French,  "and  we  are  joined  for  life:  \v<:  are 
joined  by  the  ties  of  love.  We  have  one  child,  and  we 
may  have  others.  But  the  law  and  all  the  conditions  of 
our  state  are  such  that  there  are  a  thousand  complica- 
tions, which  Anna,  now  that  she  is  resting  after  her 
afflictions  and  sufferings,  does  not  see  and  will  not  see. 
It  is  natural ;  but  I  cannot  help  seeing.  My  daughter, 
according  to  the  law,  is  not  my  daughter,  but  Karenin's, 
and  I  do  not  like  this  falsehood,"  said  he,  with  an  ener- 
getic gesture  of  repulsion,  and  looking  at  Darya  Aleksan- 
drovna  with  a  gloomy,  questioning  face. 

She  did  not  reply,  but  simply  looked  at  him.  He 
continued  :  — 

"  To-morrow  a  son  may  be  born  —  my  son  —  and  by 
law  he  would  be  a  Karenin,  and  could  inherit  neither 
my  name  nor  my  property,  and,  however  happy  we  were 
here  at  home,  and  however  many  children  we  had,  there 
would  be  no  legal  connection  between  me  and  them. 
They  would  be  Karenins.  You  understand  the  cruelty, 
the  horror,  of  this  state  of  things .''  I  try  to  explain  this 
to  Anna.  It  irritates  her  —  she  will  not  understand  me, 
and  I  cannot  tell  /ler  all.  Now  look  at  the  other  side. 
I  am  happy  in  her  love,  but  I  must  have  occupation.  I 
have  taken  up  my  present  enterprise,  and  I  am  proud 
of  it,  and  consider  it  far  more  beneficial  than  the  occupa- 
tions of  my  former  comrades  at  the  court  and  in  the 
service.  And  certainly  I  would  not  change  my  occupa- 
tion for  theirs.  I  work  here,  on  my  own  place,  and  I  am 
happy  and  contented,  and  we  need  nothing  more  for  our 
happiness.  I  love  my  activity,  cela  n  est  pas  un  pis  alter; 
far  from  it." 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  noticed  that  at  this  point  of  his 
explanation  he  became  entangled,  and  she  did  not  under 


158  ANNA    KARENINA 

stand  very  well  his  sudden  pause,  but  she  felt  that,  having 
fairly  begun  to  speak  of  his  intimate  affairs  concerning 
which  he  could  not  talk  with  Anna,  he  would  now  make 
a  full  breast  of  it,  and  that  the  question  of  his  activities 
in  the  country  belonged  to  the  same  category  as  his 
relations  to  Anna. 

"  And  so  I  keep  on,"  said  he,  growing  more  cheerful 
again.  "  The  chief  thing  is  that  when  one  works  one 
must  have  the  persuasion  that  what  one  has  done  will 
not  die  with  him,  that  he  will  have  heirs  ....  but  I  have 

none Conceive  the  feelings  of  a  man  who  knows  that 

his  children  and  those  of  the  wife  he  worships  do  not 
belong  to  him  ;  that  they  belong  to  a  man  who  hates 
them,  and  would  never  recognize  them.  Is  n't  it  hor- 
rible ?  " 

He  was  silent  and  deeply  moved. 

"Yes,  of  course,"  said  Darya  Aleksandrovna ;  "I 
understand  this.     But  what  can  Anna  do  .-*  " 

"  Well,  that  brings  me  to  the  purpose  of  this  talk," 
said  the  count,  controlling  himself  with  effort.     "Anna 

can  get  a  divorce.     It  depends  on  her If  we  are  to 

petition  the  emperor  to  legitimize  the  children,  a  divorce 
is  essential.  But  that  depends  on  Anna.  Her  husband 
consented  to  that,  and  your  husband  had  it  all  arranged 
some  time  ago,  and  I  know  that  he  now  would  not 
refuse  ;  all  it  requires  is  for  Anna  to  write  to  him.  He 
said  up  and  down  that  he  would  consent,  if  Anna  would 
apply  for  it.  Of  course,"  he  added,  frowning,  "  this 
condition  is  one  of  those  Pharisaic  cruelties  of  which 
only  heartless  people  are  capable.  He  knows  what 
torture  all  remembrance  of  him  has  for  her,  and  so  he 
exacts  this  letter  from  her.  I  understand  that  it  is  pain- 
ful to  her.  But  the  reasons  are  so  imperative  that  she 
must  passer  pardessiis  toiites  ces  finesses  de  sentiment.  II 
va  du  bonlienr  et  de  r existence  d' Anna  et  de  ces  enfants.^ 
I  don't  speak  about  myself,  though  it  is  painful,  very 
painful,  to  me,"  said  he,  with  a  wrathful  expression 
against  whoever  was  responsible  for  this  state  of  things. 

1  She  ought  to  be  above  these  excessive  sensibilities;  her  happiness  is 
involved,  as  well  as  her  children's. 


ANNA    KARENINA 


^S9 


"And  this  is  why  I  make  bold  to  apply  to  you,  princess, 
as  to  a  very  anchor  of  salvation.  Help  me  to  persuade 
Anna  of  the  need  of  getting  a  divorce." 

"  Why,  of  course  I  will,"  said  Darya  Aleksandrovna, 
gravely,  for  she  vividly  recalled  her  last  meeting  with 
Aleksei'  Aleksandrovitch.  "  Of  course  I  will,"  she  re- 
peated resolutely,  as  she  thought  of  Anna. 

"  Exert  your  influence  on  her  and  induce  her  to  write 
the  letter.  I  do  not  wish,  and  indeed  I  find  it  almost 
impossible,  to  talk  with  her  about  this." 

"Very  well,  I  will  speak  to  her.  But  why  does  she 
not  think  of  it  herself.-*"  asked  Darya  Aleksandrovna, 
suddenly  remembering  Anna's  strange  new  trick  of 
half-closing  her  eyes.  And  then  it  occurred  to  her  that 
Anna  did  this  especially  when  any  reference  was  made 
to  the  more  intimate  side  of  her  life. 

"  She  seems  to  try  to  shut  her  eyes  to  her  whole  life, 
as  if  to  put  it  out  of  her  mind,"  said  Darya  Aleksan- 
drovna to  herself "  Yes,  I  will  speak  to  her,  cer- 
tainly ;  both  for  your  sake  and  for  hers,"  repeated 
Dolly,  in  response  to  Vronsky's  grateful  look. 

And  they  got  up  and  went  to  the  house. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

Finding  Dolly  already  returned,  Anna  looked  scruti- 
nizingly  into  her  eyes,  as  if  she  would  read  there  a  reply 
to  her  wonder  what  she  and  Vronsky  had  been  talking 
about,  but  she  asked  no  questions. 

"  Dinner  is  nearly  ready,  and  we  have  hardly  seen 
each  other.  I  count  on  this  evening;  but  now  I  must 
go  and  change  my  gown.  I  suppose  you  'd  like  to  do 
the  same.     One  gets  so  soiled  after  such  a  walk." 

Dolly  went  to  her  room,  and  felt  ridiculous.  She  had 
no  change  to  make,  since  she  had  worn  her  best  gown  ; 
but,  in  order  to  make  some  change  in  her  toilette,  in 
honor  of  dinner,  she  asked  the  maid  to  brush  the  dust 
off,  she  changed  her  cuffs  and  put  on  a  fresh  ribbon, 
and  put  some  lace  in  her  hair. 


i6o  ANNA   KARENINA 

,  "It  is  all  I  could  do,"  she  said  laughingly,  to  Anna, 
who  came  to  her,  dressed  in  a  third  but  very  simple  cos- 
tume. 

"  Well !  we  are  very  formal  here,"  said  Anna,  in  apol- 
ogy for  her  elegant  attire.  "  Aleksei  is  so  glad  that  you 
came.  I  believe  he  has  fallen  in  love  with  you,"  she 
added.     "  I  hope  you  are  not  tired." 

Before  dinner  there  was  no  time  for  any  talk.  When 
they  entered  the  drawing-room,  they  found  the  Princess 
Varvara  and  the  gentlemen  all  in  evening  dress.  The 
architect  was  the  only  one  that  wore  a  frock-coat. 
Vronsky  presented  the  doctor  and  the  superintendent 
to  his  guest.  She  had  already  met  the  architect  at 
the  hospital. 

A  portly  butler,  wearing  a  stiffly  starched  white 
cravat,  and  with  his  smooth  round  face  shining,  came 
and  announced  that  dinner  was  served,  and  the  ladies 
stood  up.  Vronsky  asked  Sviazhsky  to  escort  Anna 
Arkadyevna  into  the  dining-room,  and  he  himself  offered 
his  arm  to  Darya  Aleksandrovna.  Veslovsky  was 
quicker  than  Tushkievitch  in  handing  in  the  Princess 
Varvara,  so  that  Tushkievitch  went  with  the  doctor  and 
the  superintendent. 

The  dinner,  the  service,  the  plate,  the  wine,  and  the 
dishes  served,  not  only  corresponded  to  the  general  tone 
of  new  luxury  appertaining  to  the  household,  but  seemed 
even  more  luxurious  and  elegant.  Darya  Aleksandrovna 
took  note  of  this  splendor,  which  was  quite  new  to  her, 
and,  as  the  mistress  of  an  establishment  of  her  own,  she 
could  not  help  making  a  mental  inventory  of  the  details, 
and  wondering  how  and  by  whom  it  was  all  done ;  and 
yet  she  had  no  dream  of  introducing  anything  like  it 
into  her  own  home,  which  was  conducted  on  a  scale  of 
far  greater  simplicity. 

Vasenka  Veslovsky,  her  own  husband,  and  even 
Sviazhsky  and  many  more  men  whom  she  knew,  had 
never  carried  out  anything  like  this,  and  every  one  of 
them  believed  in  the  dictum  that  the  master  of  a  well- 
regulated  household  always  desires  to  make  his  guests 
imagine   that   the  elegance    and   comfort    surrounding 


ANNA   KARENINA  i6i 

them  are  not  any  trouble  to  him,  but  come  about  spon 
taneously. 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  knew  that  even  such  a  simple 
matter  as  providing  kasha  for  her  children's  breakfast 
does  not  go  of  itself,  and  that  all  the  more  in  such 
an  elegant  and  complicated  establishment  there  had  to 
be  some  one  in  full  and  complete  charge.  And  by  the 
glances  with  which  Aleksei  Kirillovitch  took  in  the  de- 
tails of  the  table,  and  by  the  nods  which  he  gave  toward 
the  butler  and  by  the  way  in  which  he  offered  Darya 
Aleksandrovna  the  choice  between  botvinya  and  soup, 
she  understood  that  everything  was  done  under  the  direct 
superintendence  of  the  master  of  the  house.  Anna  had 
nothing  more  to  do  with  it  than  Veslovsky  had.  She 
and  Sviazhsky,  the  princess  and  Veslovsky,  were  only 
guests,  gayly  and  thoughtlessly  taking  advantage  of 
what  was  done  for  them. 

Anna  was  kJiozyaika,  or  mistress  of  the  household, 
only  in  the  management  of  the  conversation  ;  and  this 
conversation  was  very  difficult  at  a  small  table  among 
guests  belonging  to  such  different  spheres  of  life  as  the 
superintendent  and  the  architect,  who  were  trying  not  to 
be  dazzled  by  such  unwonted  splendor,  and  who  were 
unused  to  taking  part  in  a  general  conversation  ;  but 
Anna  went  through  with  her  task  with  her  usual  tact 
and  simplicity,  and  even  with  pleasure,  as  Darya  Alek- 
sandrovna noticed. 

The  conversation  turned  first  on  the  way  in  which 
Tushkievitch  and  Veslovsky  had  gone  down  alone  to  the 
boat,  and  Tushkievitch  began  to  speak  of  the  recent 
yacht-race  under  the  auspices  of  the  Petersburg  yacht- 
club.  But  Anna,  taking  advantage  of  the  first  pause, 
quickly  turned  to  the  architect,  in  order  to  bring  him 
out  of  his  silence. 

"  Nikolai  Ivanuitch  was  surprised,"  said  she,  referring 
to  Sviazhsky,  "  to  see  how  the  new  building  had  grown 
since  he  was  here  last.  But  I  myself  am  here  every 
day,  and  every  day  I  am  surprised  myself  to  see  how 
fast  it  progresses. 

"  It  is  good  to  work  with    his  excellency,"  said  the 

VOL.  III.  —  i  I 


i62  ANNA    KARENINA 

architect,  smiling He  had  a  sense  of  the  dignity  of  his 

calHng,  and  was  a  very  worthy  and  self-possessed  gentle- 
man  "  You  don't  do  such  work  under   government 

patronage.  When  they  would  write  reams  of  paper,  I 
simply  lay  the  plan  before  the  count,  we  talk  it  over,  and 
three  words  decide  it." 

"American  ways,"  suggested  Sviazhsky,  smiling. 

"Yes!  buildings  there  are  raised  rationally."  .... 

The  conversation  then  went  off  on  the  abuse  of  power 
in  the  United  States  ;  but  Anna  immediately  started  him 
on  a  third  theme,  in  order  to  bring  out  the  superinten- 
dent from  his  silence. 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  the  steam  reaping-machines  ? " 
she  asked  of  Darya  Aleksandrovna.  "  We  had  just 
been  to  see  ours  when  we  met  you.  I  never  saw  one 
before." 

"  How  do  they  work  ?  "  asked  Dolly. 

"  Just  like  scissors.  A  plank  and  a  quantity  of  little 
knives.     Like  this  !  " 

Anna  took  a  knife  and  fork  into  her  beautiful  white 
hands  covered  with  rings,  and  tried  to  show  her.  She 
apparently  saw  that  she  did  not  make  herself  very  clear, 
but,  knowing  that  she  spoke  pleasantly  and  that  her 
hands  were  beautiful,  she  continued  her  explanations. 

"  Better  say  pen-knives  !  "  said  Veslovsky,  with  an 
attempt  at  a  pun,i  and  not  taking  his  eyes  from  her. 

Anna  smiled  almost  imperceptibly,  but  made  no  reply 
to  his  remark. 

"Am  I  not  right,  Karl,  that  they  are  like  scissors."*" 
she  said,  appealing  to  the  director. 

"  0/i,ja,"  replied  the  German.  "  Es  ist  ein  gaiiz  ein- 
f aches  Ding  ;  "  ^  and  he  began  to  explain  the  construction 
of  the  machine. 

"  It  is  too  bad  that  it  does  not  bind  the  sheaves.  I 
saw  one  at  the  Vienna  Exposition  ;  it  bound  them  with 
wire,"  said  Sviazhsky.  "That  kind  would  be  much 
more  convenient." 

"^i-  kommt  drauf  an Der  Preis  von  D)'aht  muss 

^  N^ozhnitsui,  scissors  ;    tiozhitchki,  little  knives. 
2  It  is  a  very  simple  thing. 


ANNA    KARENINA  163 

aiisgerechnet  werdeny  And  the  German,  aroused  from 
his  silence,  turned  for  confirmation  to  Vronsky  —  "  Das 
Idsst  sich  aiisrecJineti,  ErlaiicJity 

The  German  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  where  he 
kept  a  pencil  and  notebook,  in  which  he  had  an  exact 
statement,  but,  suddenly  remembering  that  he  was  at  the 
dinner-table,  and  noticing  Vronsky 's  cold  eyes  fastened 
on  him,  he  controlled  himself. 

^^  Z21  complicirt,  macht  zu  viel  Klopois,''^  he  said  in 
conclusion. 

"  Wiinscht  man  Dochots,  so  hat  man  ancJi  Klopots^'  ^ 
said  Vasenka  Veslovsky,  making  sport  of  the  German. 
"J'adore  V allemand,'''  he  said,  with  a  peculiar  smile, 
turning  to  Anna. 

"  Cessez  !  "  said  she,  with  affected  sternness. 

"We  expected  to  find  you  on  the  field,"  said  she  to 
the  doctor,  who  was  somewhat  infirm.  "  Were  you 
there .? " 

"I  was  there,  but  I  evaporated,"  replied  the  doctor, 
with  a  melancholy  attempt  at  a  jest. 

"  It  must  have  been  a  beautiful  motion." 

"Magnificent." 

"  Well,  and  how  did  you  find  your  old  woman .''  I 
hope  it  isn't  the  typhus." 

"Whether  it  is  typhus  or  not  I  can't  tell  yet,  but ...." 

"  How  sorry  I  am,"  said  Anna ;  and,  having  thus 
shown  her  politeness  to  the  dependents,  she  turned 
again  to  her  friends. 

"  At  any  rate,  it  would  be  pretty  hard  to  reconstruct 
a  machine  by  following  your  description,  Anna  Arka- 
dyevna,"  said  Sviazhsky. 

"No,  why  so.-*"  said  Anna,  with  a  smile  which  inti- 
mated that  she  knew  there  was  something  charming  in 
her  description  of  the  construction  of  the  reaping-ma- 
chines, and  that  even  Sviazhsky  had  noticed  it.  This 
new  trait  of  youthful  coquetry  struck  Dolly  unpleasantly. 

"  Still,  in  architecture  Anna  Arkadyevna's  knowledge 
is  very  remarkable,"  said  Tushkievitch. 

^  Too  complicated,  makes  too  much  bother. 
^  If  one  wants  money,  he  must  have  bother. 


i64  ANNA   KARENINA 

"  Well,  yesterday  evening  I  heard  Anna  Arkadyevna 
making  some  wise  remark  about  plinths,"  said  Veslovsky. 
•'  Would  you  find  me  doing  that  ?  " 

"  There  is  nothing  remarkable  in  that,  when  one 
keeps  one's  eyes  and  ears  open,"  said  Anna.  "  But  don't 
you  know  what  houses  are  built  of  ?  " 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  perceived  that  Anna  was  not 
pleased  with  this  tone  of  badinage  which  she  and  Veslov- 
sky kept  up,  but  that  she  fell  into  it  involuntarily. 

In  this  respect  Vronsky  behaved  exactly  the  opposite 
to  Levin.  He  evidently  attributed  not  the  least  impor- 
tance to  Veslovsky's  nonsense,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
encouraged  this  jesting. 

"  Well,  tell  us,  Veslovsky,  what  they  use  to  fasten 
stones  together." 

"  Cement,  of  course." 

"  Bravo  !     And  what  is  cement  made  of  ? " 

"Well,  it  is    something    Hke  gruel No,  a  sort   of 

mastic,"  said  Veslovsky,  amid  general  laughter. 

The  conversation  among  the  guests,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  doctor,  the  superintendent,  and  the  architect, 
who  generally  kept  silence,  went  on  without  cessation, 
now  growing  light,  now  dragging  a  little,  and  now 
touching  to  the  quick. 

Once  Darya  Aleksandrovna  was  touched  to  the  quick, 
and  felt  so  provoked  that  she  grew  red  in  the  face,  and 
afterward  she  wondered  if  she  made  any  improper  or 
unpleasant  remark.  Sviazhsky  spoke  of  Levin  and  told 
of  some  of  his  strange  opinions  in  regard  to  machines 
being  injurious  to  Russian  agriculture. 

"  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  knowing  this  Mr.  Levin  ; 
probably  he  has  never  seen  the  machines  he  criticizes. 
But  if  he  has  seen  and  tried,  they  must  have  been 
Russian  ones,  and  not  the  foreign  make.  What  can  be 
his  views  .-*" 

"  Turkish  views,"  said  Veslovsky,  smiling  at  Anna. 

"  I  cannot  defend  his  opinions,"  said  Dolly,  reddening  ; 
^'but  Levin  is  a  thoroughly  intelligent  man,  and  if  he 
were  here  he  would  know  what  answer  to  make  you, 
but  I  can't," 


ANNA    KARENINA  165 

"  Oh,  I  am  very  fond  of  him,  and  we  are  excellent 
friends,"  said  Sviazhsky,  smiling  good-naturedly;  "  mais 
pardon,  il  est  un  petit  pen  toque.  For  example,  he  con- 
siders \.\vQ.zemstvo  and  the  justices  of  the  peace  —  every- 
thing —  entirely  useless  —  will  have  nothing  to  do  with 
them." 

"  It 's  our  Russian  indifference  !  "  exclaimed  Vronsky, 
filling  his  goblet  with  ice-water  from  a  carafe.  "  Not  to 
feel  the  obligations  which  our  privileges  impose  on  us 
and  so  ignore  them." 

"  I  don't  know  any  one  who  is  more  strict  in  the  ful- 
filment of  his  duties,"  said  Dolly,  irritated  by  Vronsky's 
superior  tone. 

"I,  on  the  contrary,"  continued  Vronsky,  evidently 
somewhat  piqued  by  this  conversation,  —  "  I,  on  the  con- 
trary, am  very  grateful,  as  you  see,  for  the  honor  which 
has  been  done  me,  thanks  to  Nikolai'  Ivanovitch  "  —  he 
referred  to  Sviazhsky  —  "in  my  appointment  as  honorary 
justice  of  the  peace.  I  consider  that  for  me  the  duty 
of  going  to  the  sessions  of  the  court,  of  judging  the 
affairs  of  a  muzhik,  are  as  important  as  anything  that  I 
could  do.  And  I  shall  consider  it  an  honor  if  you  elect 
me  a  member  of  the  town-council.^  This  is  the  only 
way  that  I  can  repay  society  for  the  privileges  I  enjoy 
as  a  landed  proprietor.  Unfortunately  the  influence 
which  the  large  landed  proprietors  ought  to  wield  is  not 
fully  appreciated." 

Vronsky's  calm  assurance  that  he  was  in  the  right 
seem.ed  very  strange  to  Darya  Aleksandrovna.  She 
knew  that  Levin,  whose  opinions  were  diametrically 
opposite,  was  equally  firm  on  his  side ;  but  she  loved 
Levin,  and  so  she  was  on  his  side. 

"  So  we  can  depend  on  you  at  the  next  election,  can 
we  ?  "  said  Sviazhsky.  "  But  we  ought  to  leave  earlier, 
so  as  to  get  there  by  the  8th.  Will  you  do  me  the  honor 
to  go  with  me,  count  .-*  " 

"  I  pretty  much  agree  with  your  deau  frhr,"  said 
Anna,  "though  for  different  reasons,"  she  added,  with 
a  smile.     "  I  am  afraid  that  nowadays  we  are  getting 

^  The  Russian  name  for  this  official  is  glasmti. 


i66  ANNA    KARENINA 

to  have  too  many  of  these  public  duties,  just  as  in  olA 
times  there  were  so  many  chinovniks  that  there  was  a 
chinovnik  for  everything ;  so  now  every  one  is  becoming 
a  public  functionary.  Alekse'i  has  been  here  six  months, 
and  is  already  a  member  of  five  or  six  different  public 
commissions  —  wardenship,^  judge,  town  councilman, 
juryman  — I  don't  know  what  else.  Du  train  que  cela 
va  all  his  time  will  be  spent  on  it.  And  I  am  afraid  if 
these  things  are  multiphed  so,  that  it  will  be  only  a 
matter  of  form.  You  have  ever  so  many  offices,  Nikolait 
Ivanuitch,  have  you  not.-*  at  least  twenty,  haven't  you.-*" 
she  asked,  turning  toward  Sviazhsky. 

Anna  spoke  jestingly,  but  in  her  tone  there  was  a 
shade  of  irritation.  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  who  was 
watching  Anna  and  Vronsky  attentively,  immediately 
noticed  it.  She  saw  also  that  the  count's  face  assumed 
a  resolute  and  obstinate  expression,  and  that  the  Princess 
Varvara  made  haste  to  talk  about  some  Petersburg  ac- 
quaintances, so  as  to  change  the  subject ;  and,  remember- 
ing what  Vronsky  had  told  her  in  the  garden  about  his 
pleasure  in  activity,  she  felt  certain  that  this  conversa- 
tion about  public  activities  had  something  to  do  with  a 
secret  quarrel  between  Vronsky  and  Anna. 

The  dinner,  the  wines,  the  service,  were  luxurious,  but 
everything  seemed  to  Darya  Aleksandrovna  formal  and 
impersonal,  like  the  state  dinners  and  balls  that  she  had 
seen,  and  on  an  ordinary  day  and  in  a  small  circle  it 
made  a  disagreeable  impression  on  her. 

After  dinner  they  sat  down  on  the  terrace.  Then 
they  began  to  play  lawn-tennis.  The  players,  dividing 
into  two  sides,  took  their  places  on  the  carefully  rolled 
and"  smoothly  shaven  croquet-ground,  on  which  the  net 
was  stretched  between  gilded  posts.  Darya  Aleksan- 
drovna was  invited  to  play,  but  it  took  a  long  time 
before  she  learned  how,  and  when  she  got  an  idea  of 
the  game  she  felt  so  tired  that  she  went  and  sat  down 
by  the  Princess  Varvara  and  only  watched  the  players. 
Her  partner,  Tushkievitch,  also  ceased  playing,  but  the 
others  continued  the  game  a  long  time.     Sviazhsky  and 

^  Popeckitehtvo. 


ANNA    KARENINA  167 

Vronsky  both  played  very  well  and  earnestly.  They 
followed  the  tennis-ball  with  quick  eyes  as  it  was  sent 
from  one  side  to  the  other,  not  wasting  their  energies, 
and  not  getting  confused,  skilfully  running  to  meet  it, 
waiting  till  it  should  bound,  and  with  good  aim  and 
perfect  accuracy  catching  it  on  the  racket  and  sending 
it  over  the  net. 

Veslovsky  played  worse  than  the  others.  He  got  too 
much  excited,  but  nevertheless  by  his  gayety  he  kept  up 
the  spirits  of  the  other  players.  His  jests  and  shouts 
never  ceased.  Like  the  other  men,  by  the  advice  of  the 
ladies  he  took  off  his  coat  and  played,  and  his  tall, 
well-shaped  figure  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  and  his  ruddy, 
warm  face,  and  his  violent  motions  made  a  pleasant 
picture  to  remember. 

When  Darya  Aleksandrovna  that  night  lay  down  in 
her  bed,  as  soon  as  she  closed  her  eyes  she  saw  Vasenka 
Veslovsky  dancing  about  on  the  croquet-ground. 

But  while  they  were  playing,  Darya  Aleksandrovna 
did  not  feel  happy.  She  was  displeased  with  the  frivolity 
which  Vasenka  Veslovsky  and  Anna  still  kept  up  while 
they  were  playing;  nor  did  such  a  childish  game  played 
by  grown  men  and  women  by  themselves,  without  chil- 
dren, seem  natural  or  sensible.  But  lest  she  should  de- 
stroy the  pleasure  of  the  others  and  so  as  to  pass  away 
the  time,  she  rested  a  little  while  and  then  took  part  in 
another  game  and  made  believe  that  she  was  gay.  All 
that  day  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  were  acting  in  a 
comedy  with  better  actors  than  herself,  and  that  her 
bad  acting  spoiled  the  whole  piece.  She  had  come 
intending  to  stay  for  two  days  if  they  urged  her.  But 
in  the  evening,  during  the  game  of  tennis,  she  made  up 
her  mind  to  go  home  the  next  day.  Those  very  same 
maternal  cares  which  she  had  so  hated  as  she  thought 
them  over  during  her  journey,  now,  after  two  days' 
absence,  presented  themselves  in  another  light  and 
began  to  attract  her.  When,  after  tea  and  after  a 
moonUght  row  in  the  boat,  she  went  alone  to  her  room, 
took  off  her  gown,  and  began  to  put  up  her  thin  hair  for 
the  night,  she  felt  a  great  sense  of  relief. 


i68  ANNA   KARENINA 

It  was  even  unpleasant  to  think  that  Anna  would 
soon  be  in  to  see  her.  She  would  have  preferred  to  be 
alone  with  her  thoughts. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

Dolly  was  just  feeling  ready  to  go  to  bed  when 
Anna  came  in,  in  her  night  costume. 

All  that  day  Anna  had  more  than  once  been  on  the 
point  of  speaking  intimately,  but  each  time,  after  saying 
a  few  words,  she  had  put  it  off,  saying,  "  By  and  by ; 
when  we  are  alone,  we  will  talk.  I  must  tell  you 
everything." 

Now  they  were  alone  and  Anna  did  not  know  what 
to  talk  about.  She  sat  by  the  window  looking  at  Dolly, 
and  casting  over  in  her  mind  that  inexhaustible  store  of 
topics  which  she  wished  to  talk  about,  and  yet  she 
could  not  find  one  to  begin  with.  It  seemed  to  her 
as  if  she  had  already  told  all  that  was  in  her  heart  to 
tell. 

"  Well,  what  about  Kitty .-' "  asked  Anna,  sighing 
deeply,  and  looking  guiltily  at  Dolly.  "Tell  me  the 
truth,  Dolly  ;  is  she  angry  with  me  .-'  " 

"Angry  ?     No,"  answered  Dolly,  smiling. 

"  Does  n't  she  hate  ....  does  n't  she  despise  me  ? " 

"  Oh,  no ;  but  you  know  this  is  one  of  the  things 
people  don't  forgive." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Anna,  turning  away  and  looking  out 
of  the  open  window.  "  But  I  was  not  to  blame  !  And 
who  is  to  blame  ?  and  what  is  there  blameworthy  about 
it .''  Could  it  have  been  otherwise  .-*  Now  tell  me  ? 
How  do  you  think .''  Could  you  have  helped  being 
Stiva's  wife  ?  " 

"Truly,  I  don't  know;  but  you  must  tell  me  ....  " 

"Yes,  yes!  But  finish  telling  me  about  Kitty.  Is 
she  happy  ?  They  say  her  husband  is  an  excellent 
man." 

"  That 's  too  little  to  say,  that  he  's  excellent ;  I  don't 
know  a  better  man." 


ANNA   KARENINA  169 

"  Oh,  how  glad  I  am  !  I  am  very  glad.  '  Little  to 
say,  that  he  's  an  excellent  man,'  "  she  repeated. 

Dolly  smiled. 

"  But  now  tell  me  about  yourself,"  said  Dolly.  "  I 
want  a  long  talk  with  you.     I  have  talked  with...," 

She  did  not  know  what  to  call  Vronsky  —  it  was  awk- 
ward to  call  him  either  count  or  Aleksei'  Kirillovitch. 

"  With  Aleksei,"  said  Anna.  "  Yes ;  I  know  that 
you  talked  with  him.  But  I  wanted  to  ask  you  frankly 
what  you  think  of  me ....  of  my  life." 

"  How  can  I  tell  you  at  such  short  notice  ?  I  don't 
know  what  to  say." 

"No;    you  must  tell   me You  see   my  life.     But 

you  must  not  forget  that  you  see  us  in  summer  with 
people,  and  we  are  not  alone....  but  we  came  in  the 
early  spring,  we  lived  entirely  alone,  and  we  shall  live 
alone  again.  I  ask  for  nothing  better  than  living  alone 
with  him.  But  when  I  imagine  that  I  may  live  alone 
without  him,  absolutely  alone,  and  this  would  be ....  I 
don't  see  why  this  may  not  be  frequently  repeated,  that 
he  may  spend  half  of  his  time  away  from  home,"  she 
said,  and,  getting  up,  she  sat  down  close  by  Dolly. 
"Oh,  of  course,"  she  said  quickly,  interrupting  Dolly, 
who  was  about  to  speak,  "  of  course,  I  cannot  keep 
him  by  force....  I  don't  keep  him.  To-day  there's  a 
race  ;  his  horses  race  ;  he  goes.  I  am  very  glad  I  But 
you  think  of  me;  imagine  my  situation  ....  what  is  to  be 
said  about  it  .-•  "  She  smiled.  "  But  what  did  he  talk 
with  you  about .''  " 

"  He  spoke  about  a  matter  which  I  myself  wanted  to 
talk  over  with  you ;  and  it  is  easy  for  me  to  be  an  advo- 
cate of  it,  —  about  this  :  whether  it  is  not  possible  or 
essential  to" — Darya  Aleksandrovna  hesitated — ^"to 
improve,  make  your  position  legal ....  you  know  how  I 
look  at....  but  anyhow,  if  possible,  a  marriage  must  take 
place." 

"  You  mean  divorce  ?  "  said  Anna.  "  Do  you  know, 
the  only  woman  who  came  to  see  me  in  Petersburg  was 
Betsy  Tverskaya !  Perhaps  you  know  her.  Ait  fond 
c  est  la  fevnnc  la  plus  depravee  qui  existe.      She  had  a 


I70  ANNA   KARENINA 

liaison  with  this  Tushkievitch,  deceiving  her  husband 
in  the  most  outrageous  way ....  but  she  told  me  that  she 
did  not  wish  to  know  me,  because  my  position  was 
illegal!  Don't  think  that  I  compare....  I  know  you, 
dear  heart. ^  But  I  could  not  help  remembering  it. 
Well,  what  did  he  say  to  you  ?  " 

"  He  said  that  he  suffered  both  for  you  and  for  him- 
self ;  maybe  you  will  say  that  it  is  egoism,  but  what  an 
honorable  and  noble  egoism  !  He  wishes  to  make  his 
daughter  legitimate,  and  to  be  your  husband  and  with  a 
husband's  rights." 

"What  wife,  what  slave,  could  be  more  of  a  slave 
than  I,  in  my  position  ?  "  she  interrupted  angrily. 

"  The  main  reason  that  he  wishes  it  is  that  you  may 
not  suffer." 

"  This  is  impossible.     Well  ?  " 

"  Well,  to  make  your  children  legitimate,  to  give  them 
a  name." 

"What  children.?"  said  Anna,  not  looking  at  Dolly, 
but  half-closing  her  eyes. 

"  Ani,  and  those  that  may  come  to  you." 

"Oh,  he  can  be  easy  ;  I  shall  not  have  any  more.".... 

"  How  can  you  say  that  you  won't  have  any  more.'"'.... 

"  Because  I  will  not  have  any  more ;  "  and,  in  spite  of 
her  emotion,  Anna  smiled  at  the  naive  expression  of 
astonishment,  of  curiosity,  and  horror  depicted  on  Dolly's 
face.     "  After  my  illness  the  doctor  told  me ...." 


"  It  is  impossible,"  exclaimed  Dolly,  looking  at  Anna 
with  wide-opened  eyes.  For  her  this  was  one  of  those 
discoveries,  the  consequences  and  deductions  of  which 
are  so  monstrous  that  at  the  first  instant  it  touches  only 
the  feehng,  that  it  is  impossible  to  grasp  it,  but  that  it 
rouses  momentous  trains  of  thought. 

This  discovery,  which  explained  for  her  how  hap- 
pened all  these  hitherto  inexplicable  families  of  one 
or  at  most  two  children,  stirred  up  so  many  thoughts, 
considerations,  and  contradictory  feelings  that  she  could 

1  Dmhenka  moya. 


ANNA    KARENINA  171 

not  say  a  word,  and  only  gazed  with  wide-open  eyes 
of  amazement  at  Anna.  It  was  the  very  thing  of 
which  she  had  dreamed,  but  now  that  she  knew  it 
was  possible  she  was  horror-struck.  She  felt  that  it 
was  a  quite  too  simple  solution  of  a  too  complicated 
question. 

"N'esi  ce  pas  immoral  i"  she  asked,  after  a  mo- 
ment's silence. 

"  Why  }  Remember  that  I  must  choose  between  two 
things :  either  being  pregnant,  that  is  to  say,  sick,  or 
being  the  friend,  the  companion,  of  my  husband  ;  for  so  I 
consider  him.  If  that  is  a  doubtful  fact  to  you,  it  is  not 
so  to  me,"  said  Anna,  in  an  intentionally  superficial  and 
frivolous  tone. 

"Yes,  yes,  but...."  exclaimed  Darya  Aleksandrovna, 
hearing  the  very  same  arguments  which  she  had  brought 
up  to  herself,  and  no  longer  finding  in  them  their  former 
weight. 

"  For  you,  for  other  women,"  proceeded  Anna,  appar- 
ently divining  her  thoughts,  "  there  may  be  some  doubt 

about  this;    but  for  me Just  think!     I    am   not    his 

wife  ;  he  will  love  me  just  as  long  as  he  loves  me  ;  and 
how,  by  what  means,  am  I  to  keep  his  love.'*  It  is  by 
this." 

And  she  put  out  her  white  arms  in  front  of  her  beau- 
tiful body. 

With  extraordinary  rapidity,  as  always  happens  in 
moments  of  emotion,  all  sorts  of  thoughts  and  ideas  went 
rushing  through  Darya  Aleksandrovna's  mind. 

"  I  have  not  tried,"  she  reasoned,  "  to  attract  Stiva  to 
myself ;  he  deserted  me  for  some  one  else,  and  the  first 
woman  for  whom  he  sacrificed  me  did  not  retain  him  by 
being  always  pretty  and  gay.  He  threw  her  over  and 
took  another.  And  will  Anna  be  able  to  fascinate  and 
retain  Count  Vronsky .?  If  that  is  what  attracts  him, 
then  he  will  be  able  to  find  women  who  dress  even  bet- 
ter and  are  more  fascinating  and  merry-hearted.  And 
however  white,  however  beautiful,  her  bare  arms,  how- 
ever beautiful  her  rounded  form,  and  her  animated  face 
framed  in  her  black  hair,  he  will  be  able  to  find  still 


172  ANNA    KARENINA 

better,  more  attractive  women,  just  as  my  abominable, 
wretched,  and  beloved  husband  has  done." 

Dolly  made  no  reply,  and  only  sighed.  Anna  re- 
marked this  sigh,  which  signified  dissent,  and  she  pro- 
ceeded. She  had  in  reserve  still  more  arguments,  still 
stronger,  and  impossible  to  answer. 

"  You  say  that  this  is  immoral.  But  this  requires  to 
be  reasoned  out,"  she  went  on  saying.  "  You  forget  my 
position.  How  can  I  desire  children  ?  I  don't  say  any- 
thing about  the  suffering,  I  am  not  afraid  of  that.  But 
think  what  my  children  will  be !  Unfortunate  beings, 
who  will  have  to  bear  a  name  which  is  not  theirs, —  by 
their  very  birth  compelled  to  blush  for  their  father  and 
mother." 

"  Well,  this  is  the  very  reason  why  a  divorce  is  neces- 
sary." 

But  Anna  did  not  hear  her.  She  wanted  to  produce 
the  same  arguments  by  which  she  had  so  many  times 
persuaded  herself. 

'*  Why  was  the  gift  of  reason  bestowed  on  me,  if  I 
cannot  employ  it  in  preventing  the  birth  of  more  un- 
happy beings  .-* " 

She  looked  at  Dolly,  but  without  waiting  for  any  an- 
swer she  went  on  :  — 

"  I  should  always  feel  my  guilt  toward  these  unhappy 
children.  If  they  do  not  exist,  they  will  not  know  mis- 
ery;  but  if  they  exist  and  suffer,  then  I  am  to  blame." 

These  were  the  same  arguments  as  Darya  Aleksan- 
drovna  had  used  to  herself,  but  now  she  listened  and 
did  not  understand  them.     She  said  to  herself :  — 

"  How  can  one  be  culpable  with  regard  to  non-ex- 
istent existences .-"  "  And  suddenly  the  thought  came, 
"  Could  it  have  been  possibly  any  better  if  my  darling 
Grisha  had  never  existed  ?  "  and  it  struck  so  unpleasantly, 
so  strangely,  that  she  shook  her  head  to  chase  away  the 
cloud  of  maddening  thoughts  that  came  into  her  mind. 

"No,  I  do  not  know;  I  believe  it  wrong,"  she  said, 
with  an  expression  of  disgust. 

"  But  you  must  not  forget  that  you  and  I  ....  and  more- 
over," added  Anna,  notwithstanding  the  wealth  of  her 


ANNA   KARENINA  173 

own  arguments  and  the  poverty  of  poor  Dolly's,  seem- 
ing somehow  to  recognize  that  this  thing  was  immoral 
after  all,  —  "  you  must  not  forget  the  main  thing,  that  I 
am  not  now  in  the  same  position  as  you  are.  For  you 
the  question  is.  Do  you  wish  to  have  more  children  ?  but 
for  me.  Do  I  desire  them  ?  This  is  the  principal  differ- 
ence. You  must  know  that  I  cannot  desire  them  in  my 
position." 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  was  silent.  She  suddenly  be- 
came aware  that  such  an  abyss  separated  her  from  Anna 
that  between  them  certain  questions  existed  on  which 
they  could  never  agree,  and  which  had  best  not  be 
discussed. 

CHAPTER  XXIV 

"That  shows  all  the  more  necessity  for  legalizing 
your  position,  if  possible." 

"Yes,  if  possible,''  answered  Anna,  in  an  entirely  dif- 
ferent tone,  calm  and  sweet. 

"  Is  a  divorce  entirely  impossible  .-•  They  tell  me 
your  husband  has  consented." 

"  Dolly,  I  do  not  wish  to  talk  about  this." 

"  Well,  we  will  not,"  Darya  Aleksandrovna  hastened 
to  say,  noticing  the  expression  of  suffering  on  Anna's 
face.  "  Only  it  seems  to  me  that  you  look  too  much  on 
the  dark  side." 

"  I }  Not  at  all  ;  I  am  very  happy  and  contented. 
You  ?,2t.vf,Jefais  des  passions  with  Veslovsky  ....  " 

"  Yes !  To  tell  the  truth,  Veslovsky's  manner  dis- 
pleases me  very  much,"  said  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  will- 
ing enough  to  change  the  conversation. 

"  Oh  !  there  's  nothing !  It  tickles  Alekse'i,  and  that 's 
all  there  is  of  it.  But  he  is  a  mere  boy  and  entirely  in 
my  hands.  You  understand,  I  do  as  I  please  with  him ; 
just  as  you  do  with  your  Grisha Dolly  !  "  —  she  sud- 
denly changed  the  subject  — "  you  say  that  I  look  on 
the  dark  side.  You  can't  understand.  This  is  too  terri- 
ble ;  I  try  not  to  look  at  all !  " 

"  You  are  wrong ;  you  ought  to  do  what  is  necessary.' 


174  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  But  what  is  necessary  ?  You  say  I  must  marry 
Alekse'i,  and  that  I  don't  think  about  that.  /  not  think 
about  that !  "  she  exclaimed,  and  the  color  flew  over  her 
face.  -  She  got  up,  straightened  herself,  and  began  walk- 
ing up  and  down  the  room  with  her  graceful  gait,  stop- 
ping now  and  then.  "  Not  think  about  that !  There  is 
not  a  day  or  an  hour  when  I  do  not  think  of  it,  and 
blame  myself  for  thinking  of  it;  —  because  the  thought 
of  it  will  make  me  mad  —  will  make  me  mad,"  she 
repeated.  "  When  I  think  of  it,  I  cannot  go  to  sleep 
without  morphine.  But  very  good  !  let  us  speak  calmly. 
You  talk  about  divorce,  but  in  the  first  place  Jie  would  not 
consent ;  he  is  now  under  the  Countess  Lidya's  influence." 

Darya  Aleksandrovna,  reclining  in  her  easy-chair  with 
a  sympathetic  and  sorrowful  face,  watched  Anna  as  she 
walked  up  and  down.     She  shook  her  head. 

"We  must  try,"  said  she. 

"  Suppose  I  should  try.  What  does  it  mean  } "  she 
asked,  evidently  expressing  a  thought  which  she  had 
gone  over  in  her  own  mind  a  thousand  times  and  had 
learned  by  heart.  "  It  means  that  I,  who  hate  him,  and 
who  have  nevertheless  confessed  my  guilt  to  him  —  I 
believe  in  his  magnanimity  —  that  I  humiliate  myself  to 
write  him Well!  suppose  I  make  the  effort;  sup- 
pose I  do  it.  I  shall  receive  either  an  insulting  answer 
or  his  consent.  Good,  I  get  his  consent...."  Anna  at 
this  time  was  in  the  farthest  end  of  the  room  and  stopped 
there  to  arrange  a  window-curtain.  "  I  get  his  con- 
sent ....  but  my  s-son  }  You  see  he  will  not  give  him 
to  me !  No,  he  will  grow  up  despising  me,  living  with 
his  father,  whom  I  have  left.  Just  think,  I  love  these 
two  almost  equally,  both  more  than  myself ;  these  two, 
Serozha  and  Aleksef." 

She  advanced  to  the  middle  of  the  room  and  stood  in 
front  of  Dolly,  pressing  her  hands  to  her  breast.  In  her 
white  peignoir  she  seemed  wonderfully  tall  and  large. 
She  bent  her  head,  and,  looking  out  of  her  moist,  shining 
eyes  on  the  little,  homely,  lean  Dolly,  sitting  there  in 
her  darned  nightgown  and  nightcap,  all  a-tremble  with 
emotion,  went  on  :  — 


ANNA    KARENINA  175 

"  These  two  only  I  love,  and  the  one  excludes  the 
other.  I  cannot  bring  them  together,  and  yet  this  is 
the  one  thing  I  want.  If  this  were  not  so,  it  would  be  all 
the  same,  —  all,  all  the  same.  It  will  end  in  some  way  ; 
but  I  cannot,  I  will  not,  talk  about  this.  So  do  not 
despise  me,  do  not  judge  me.  You  in  your  purity 
could  never  imagine  what  I  suffer ! " 

She  sat  down  beside  Dolly  and,  with  a  guilty  expres- 
sion in  her  eyes,  took  her  hand. 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  What  do  you  think  of  me .'' 
Do  not  despise  me  !  I  do  not  deserve  that ;  I  am  mis- 
erably unhappy.  If  there  is  any  one  unhappy,  it  is  I ....  " 
said  she,  and,  turning  away,  she  began  to  weep. 

After  Anna  left  her,  Dolly  said  her  prayers  and  went 
to  bed.  She  pitied  Anna  with  all  her  soul  while  she 
was  talking  with  her ;  but  now  she  could  not  bring  her- 
self to  think  of  her.  Memories  of  home  and  her  children 
arose  in  her  imagination  with  new  and  wonderful  joy. 
So  dear  and  precious  seemed  this  little  world  to  her  that 
she  decided  that  nothing  would  tempt  her  to  stay  longer 
away  from  them,  and  that  she  would  leave  the  next  day. 

Anna,  meantime,  returning  to  her  dressing-room,  took 
a  glass,  and  poured  into  it  several  drops  of  a  mixture 
containing  chiefly  morphine,  and,  having  swallowed  it, 
she  sat  a  little  while  motionless,  then  went  with  a  calm 
and  joyous  heart  to  her  bedroom. 

When  she  went  into  her  sleeping-room,  Vronsky 
looked  scrutinizingly  into  her  face.  He  was  trying  to 
discover  some  trace  of  the  talk  which  he  knew  by  the 
length  of  her  stay  in  Dolly's  room  she  must  have  had 
with  her.  But  in  her  expression,  which  betrayed  a  cer- 
tain repressed  excitement,  as  if  she  were  trying  to  con- 
ceal something,  he  found  nothing  except  the  beauty  to 
which  he  was  so  accustomed,  and  which  always  intoxi- 
cated him,  and  the  consciousness  of  it  and  the  desire 
that  it  might  still  have  its  usual  effect  on  him. 

He  did  not  like  to  ask  her  what  they  had  been  talk- 
ing about,  but  hoped  that  she  herself  would  tell  him. 
But  she  only  said  :  — 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  Dolly ;  you  do,  don't  you  .-* " 


176  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  Yes  !  I  've  known  her  for  a  long  time.  She  's  a 
very  good  woman,  mais  cxcessivement  terre  a  terrc.  But 
still  I  am  well  pleased  at  her  visit." 

He  gave  Anna  another  questioning  look,  and  took 
her  hand ;  but  she  understood  his  look  in  another  way, 
and  smiled. 

The  next  morning,  in  spite  of  repeated  urging  from 
her  hosts,  Darya  Aleksandrovna  prepared  to  go  away. 
Levin's  coachman,  in  his  old  kaftan  and  a  sort  of  postil- 
ion's cap,  put  the  unmatched  horses  into  the  old  car- 
riage with  its  shabby  harness,  and,  looking  stern  and 
resolute,  drove  up  the  sanded  driveway  to  the  covered 
portico. 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  took  a  cold  farewell  of  the 
Princess  Varvara  and  the  gentlemen.  The  day  that 
they  had  passed  together  made  them  all  see  clearly  that 
they  had  no  interests  in  common,  and  that  they  were 
better  apart.  Anna  only  was  sad.  She  knew  that  no 
one  would  waken  again  in  her  the  feelings  which  Dolly 
had  aroused  in  her  soul.  To  have  these  feelings 
aroused  was  painful  to  her,  but  still  she  knew  that  they 
represented  all  the  better  side  of  her  nature,  and  that 
soon  all  vestige  of  such  feelings  would  be  stifled  by  the 
life  that  she  was  leading. 

As  soon  as  she  got  fairly  away  from  the  house,  Darya 
Aleksandrovna  experienced  a  pleasant  feeling  of  relief, 
and  she  was  about  to  ask  her  men  how  they  liked  the 
Vronskys,  when  suddenly  the  coachman,  Filipp  himself, 
spoke  out :  — 

"  They  're  rich,  rich  enough,  but  they  give  only  three 
measures  of  oats.  The  horses  cleaned  it  all  up  before 
cockcrow.  What  are  three  measures  1  Only  a  bite. 
Nowadays  oats  cost  only  forty-five  kopeks.  With  us, 
we  give  our  visitors'  horses  as  much  as  they  will  eat." 

"  A  stingy  barin,"  said  the  bookkeeper. 

"  Well-,  but  you  liked  their  horses,  did  n't  you }  "  asked 
Dolly. 

"  The  horses,  yes,  they  were  all  right.  And  the  food 
was  good.     But  still  somehow  I  felt  kind  of  homesick, 


ANNA    KARENINA  177 

Darya  Aleksandrovna ;  I  don't  know  how  it  was  with 
you,"  said  he,  turning  to  her  his  good,  handsome  face. 

"Yes,  and  so  did  I.  But  do  you  think  we  shall  get 
home  this  evening  ?  " 

"We  must  get  home." 

On  reaching  home  and  finding  every  one  perfectly 
happy  and  glad  to  see  her,  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  with 
great  liveliness,  told  the  story  of  her  trip  and  how  warmly 
she  had  been  received,  about  the  luxury  and  good  taste 
of  the  Vronskys'  estabhshment  and  about  their  amuse- 
ments ;  and  she  would  not  allow  any  one  to  say  a  word 
against  them. 

"You  must  know  Anna  and  Vronsky,  —  and  I  know 
him  better  than  I  did,  - —  to  appreciate  how  kind  and 
affectionate  they  are,"  said  she,  with  perfect  sincerity, 
forgetting  the  vague  feeling  of  discomfort  that  she  had 
felt  when  she  was  there. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

Vronsky  and  Anna  passed  the  rest  of  the  summer 
and  part  of  the  autumn  in  the  country  under  the  same 
conditions,  and  took  no  steps  toward  getting  a  divorce. 
It  was  agreed  between  them  that  they  should  not  make 
any  visits ;  but  they  both  felt  that  the  longer  they  lived 
alone,  particularly  in  the  autumn,  and  without  guests, 
the  more  unendurable  became  their  life,  and  that  they 
must  have  some  change. 

Nothing  which  constitutes  happiness  was  apparently 
wanting  to  them.  They  were  rich,  young,  well ;  they 
had  one  child,  and  they  had  pleasant  occupations. 
Though  they  had  no  guests,  Anna  continued  to  take 
the  greatest  care  of  her  person  and  her  dress.  She 
read  much,  both  in  the  way  of  novels  and  of  serious 
literature,  and  sent  abroad  for  valuable  books  which 
she  saw  praised  in  the  foreign  magazines  and  journals. 
And  she  read  carefully,  as  one  can  do  only  when  in  the 
solitude  of  the  country.  Moreover,  all  subjects  which 
interested  Vronsky,  she  studied  up  in  books  and  scien- 

VOL.  III. —  12 


178  ANNA    KARENINA 

tific  journals,  so  that  often  he  went  directly  to  her  with 
questions  relating  to  agronomics  and  to  architecture, 
even  with  those  on  the  breeding  of  horses,  and  the  best 
methods  of  hunting.  He  was  amazed  at  her  knowledge 
and  her  memory ;  and  when  he  felt  any  doubt  about  the 
beginning  of  an  enterprise  and  wanted  moral  support, 
he  would  consult  her,  and  she  would  find  in  books  what- 
ever he  asked  about  and  then  show  it  to  him. 

The  arrangement  of  the  hospital  also  occupied  her. 
She  not  only  assisted  in  it,  but,  moreover,  invented 
many  original  ideas  and  carried  them  out.  But,  after 
all,  her  chief  preoccupation  was  herself ....  herself  and 
how  she  might  retain  Vronsky's  affections,  how  she 
might  supply  for  him  all  that  he  needed. 

Vronsky  appreciated  this,  and  saw  that  the  only  aim 
of  her  life  was  to  please  him  and  to  obey  his  wishes  in 
every  particular ;  but  at  the  same  time  he  was  op- 
pressed by  the  chains  of  tenderness  which  she  tried 
to  forge  around  him.  As  time  went  on,  he  found 
himself  more  and  more  embarrassed  by  these  chains, 
and  more  desirous  of,  if  not  exactly  escaping  from  them, 
at  least  of  keeping  them  from  interfering  with  his  inde- 
pendence. If  it  had  not  been  for  his  ever  increasing 
desire  for  freedom,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  fact  that 
every  time  he  had  to  go  to  the  city,  to  the  races,  there 
was  a  scene  with  Anna,  Vronsky  would  have  been 
perfectly  contented  with  his  existence. 

The  role  of  rich  landed  proprietor,  which  he  had 
chosen  for  himself  as  constituting  the  true  work  of  the 
Russian  aristocracy,  and  which  he  had  been  engaged 
in  now  for  half  a  year,  gave  him  ever  increasing  pleasure. 
His  work,  which  absorbed  him  more  and  more,  was 
prospering  admirably.  Notwithstanding  his  enormous 
expenses  for  the  building  of  the  hospital,  for  machinery, 
and  cattle  imported  from  Switzerland,  and  many  other 
things,  he  felt  sure  that  he  was  not  wasting,  but  increas- 
ing, his  property.  As  far  as  it  concerned  the  matter  of 
income,  the  sale  of  wood,  of  wheat,  of  wool,  the  leasing 
of  land,  Vronsky  was  as  firm  as  a  rock,  and  succeeded 
in  holding  to  his  price.     In  matters  concerning  his  whole 


ANNA   KARENINA  179 

management,  both  on  this  and  on  his  other  estates,  he 
kept  to  the  simplest  and  least  risky  processes,  and  was 
to  the  highest  degree  economical  and  prudent  in  all 
details.  Notwithstanding  all  the  cleverness  and  shrewd- 
ness of  his  German  superintendent,  who  tried  to  involve 
him  in  purchases  and  who  so  managed  every  calculation 
that  a  large  outlay  was  needed  at  first,  but  where,  by 
waiting  a  little,  the  same  thing  could  be  done  much 
cheaper  and  with  greater  profit,  Vronsky  used  his  own 
judgment.  He  would  listen  to  his  superintendent,  would 
ask  him  all  sorts  of  questions,  and  consent  to  his  pro- 
posed plans  only  when  the  thing  to  be  imported  or  con- 
structed was  something  perfectly  new,  unheard  of  as 
yet  in  Russia,  and  calculated  to  cause  surprise.  More- 
over, he  would  decide  to  embark  in  large  enterprises 
only  when  he  had  plenty  of  money  on  hand,  and  in 
entering  on  any  such  outlay  he  attended  to  all  the  details, 
and  insisted  that  he  should  have  the  very  best  results. 
Thus  it  was  evident  that  in  carrying  out  his  undertakings 
he  was  not  dissipating,  but  was  increasing,  his  estate. 

In  the  month  of  October  the  government  of  Kashin, 
in  which  were  situated  the  estates  of  Vronsky,  Sviazhsky, 
Koznuishef,  and  a  part  of  Levin's,  was  to  hold  its  nobiliary 
elections. 1  These  elections,  for  many  reasons,  and  because 
of  the  persons  who  took  part  in  them,  attracted  general 
attention.  Much  was  said  about  them  and  great  prepa- 
rations were  made  for  them.  People  from  Moscow, 
Petersburg,  and  even  from  abroad,  who  had  never  wit- 
nessed an  election,  came  to  look  on. 

Vronsky  had  some  time  before  promised  Sviazhsky  to 
go  with  him. 

Just  before  the  elections,  Sviazhsky,  who  had  often 
visited  Vozdvizhenskoye,  came  after  Vronsky.  On 
the  evening  before  this  event  Vronsky  and  Anna  almost 
had  a  quarrel  about  his  proposed  trip.  It  was  getting 
autumnal  in  the  country,  a  melancholy,  gloomy  time, 
and  therefore  Vronsky,  already  ready  for  a  contest, 
announced  with  a  cold,  stern  expression,  such  as  he  rarely 
allowed  himself  toward  Anna,  that  he  was  going  away  on 
*  Dvoriamkiye  vuiborui. 


i8o  ANNA   KARENINA 

this  expedition.  But  to  his  surprise  Anna  received  the 
news  with  entire  calmness,  and  only  asked  him  when  he 
should  be  back.  He  looked  at  her  scrutinizingly,  not 
understanding  her  calmness.  She  smiled  as  he  looked 
at  her.  He  knew  her  power  of  retiring  into  herself,  and 
he  knew  that  it  was  manifested  only  when  she  was  plan- 
ning something  about  herself  and  did  not  wish  him  to 
know  her  plans.  He  was  afraid  of  this  now,  but  he  was 
so  desirous  of  avoiding  a  scene  that  he  almost  forced 
himself  into  beheving  that  her  manner  was  sincere. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  be  lonely." 

"I  hope  so  too,"  said  Anna.  "I  received  a  box  of 
books  from  Gautier  yesterday  ;  no,  I  shall  not  be  lonely." 

"  She  is  adopting  a  new  tone,  and  so  much  the  better," 
thought  he  ;  "  but  it  is  all  the  same  thing." 

And  so,  without  entering  into  any  frank  explana- 
tion with  her,  he  started  off  for  the  elections.  This  was 
the  first  time  since  the  beginning  of  their  liaison  that  he 
had  left  her  without  full  and  complete  explanation.  In 
one  way  this  disquieted  him ;  in  another,  he  felt  that  it 
was  better  so. 

"  At  first  there  will  be  something  as  there  is  now,  not 
altogether  clear  and  above  board,  but  after  a  while  she 
will  get  used  to  it.  At  all  events,"  he  thought,  "  I  can 
give  up  to  her  everything  except  my  independence  as  a 
man." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

In  September  Levin  returned  to  Moscow  for  Kitty's 
confinement. 

He  had  already  been  there  a  whole  month  without 
anything  to  do,  when  Sergyei  Ivanovitch,  who  had  an 
estate  in  the  government  of  Kashin,  and  who  took  a 
great  interest  in  the  approaching  elections,  was  getting 
ready  to  make  the  journey.  He  took  with  him  his 
brother,  who  had  a  parcel  of  land  in  the  Seleznevsky 
district,  and  who,  moreover,  had  some  very  important 
business  to  transact  in  regard  to  a  trusteeship  and  the 


ANNA    KARENINA  i8i 

receipt  of  certain  money  in  Kashin  in  behalf  of  his  sister, 
who  lived  abroad. 

Levin  was  even  at  the  last  moment  in  a  state  of  un- 
certainty, but  Kitty,  seeing  that  he  was  bored  in  Moscow, 
not  only  urged  him  to  go,  but  without  his  knowledge 
bought  him  a  noble's  uniform  at  an  expense  of  eighty 
rubles.  And  these  eighty  rubles  paid  out  for  the  uni- 
form constituted  the  chief  reason  which  induced  Levin 
to  go.     He  therefore  went  to  Kashin. 

He  had  been  at  Kashin  six  days,  present  at  every 
session  of  the  electors,  and  employing  himself  in  his  sis- 
ter's affairs,  which  did  not  progress  at  all  satisfactorily. 
All  the  marshals  of  nobility  were  absorbed  in  the  elec- 
tions, and  it  was  impossible  to  accompHsh  the  very  simple 
business  which  depended  on  his  guardianship.  The 
other  matter  —  the  receipt  of  some  money  —  in  the 
same  way  caused  him  great  delay.  After  long  parley- 
ings  concerning  the  removal  of  an  interdict,  the  money 
was  ready  to  be  paid  over  ;  but  the  notary,  a  most 
obliging  man,  could  not  deliver  the  paper,  because  the 
signature  of  the  president  was  necessary,  and  the  presi- 
dent, neglecting  his  duties,  was  at  the  sessions  of  the 
nobles.  All  these  annoyances,  this  wandering  from 
place  to  place,  these  talks  with  very  pleasant  good  men, 
who  thoroughly  appreciated  the  disagreeable  position  of 
the  petitioner  but  could  not  help  him,  all  this  endeavor 
which  brought  no  result,  produced  on  Levin's  mind  a 
most  painful  impression,  analogous  to  that  tormenting 
impotence  which  one  sometimes  experiences  in  a  night- 
mare when  one  wants  to  employ  physical  force  and  is 
unable  to  do  so.  He  frequently  experienced  this  when 
talking  with  that  most  obliging  of  men,  the  solicitor. 
This  solicitor,  it  seemed,  was  doing  everything  in  his 
power  and  was  exerting  all  his  mental  energies  to  get 
Levin  out  of  his  difficulties. 

"  Try  this  way  or  that  way,"  he  would  say,  "  or  go  to 
this  place  or  to  that  place ; "  and  the  solicitor  would  lay 
out  a  whole  plan  for  avoiding  the  fatal  obstacle  that 
stood  in  the  way.  But  immediately  he  would  add, 
"Still  there's  a  delay;  however,  try  it."     And  Levin 


i82  ANNA   KARENINA 

would  go  flying  off  in  this  direction  or  that,  and  doing 
whatever  he  was  told  to  do.  All  were  good  and  kind, 
but  it  seemed  as  if  the  obstacles,  even  after  he  had 
passed  them,  kept  growing  up  again  and  cutting  off  his 
path. 

Especially  annoying  was  it  to  him  that  he  could 
never  know  with  whom  he  was  really  contending,  for 
whose  profit  it  was  that  he  could  never  bring  his  busi- 
ness to  a  conclusion.  And  no  one  seemed  to  know  this 
either.  Not  even  the  solicitor  knew  this.  If  Levin 
could  have  understood,  as  he  understood  why  it  was  im- 
possible to  get  at  the  office  of  a  railway  otherwise  than 
by  standing  in  line,  it  would  not  have  been  humiliating 
and  vexatious,  but,  as  regarded  the  obstacles  that  stood 
in  his  way,  not  one  could  tell  him  why  they  existed 

But  Levin  had  greatly  changed  since  his  marriage. 
He  had  learned  patience,  and  if  he  could  not  compre- 
hend why  all  this  was  arranged  as  it  was,  then  he  told  him- 
self, since  he  did  not  know  all  about  it,  he  was  not  in  a 
position  to  judge,  that  apparently  it  was  unavoidable; 
and  he  strove  not  to  lose  his  temper. 

Now  that  he  was  present  at  the  elections,  he  endeav- 
ored not  to  be  severe  in  his  criticisms,  nor  to  enter  into 
controversies,  but  as  far  as  he  could  to  understand  the 
matters  which  excellent  and  honorable  men  whom  he 
thoroughly  respected  found  so  serious  and  so  absorbing. 
Since  his  marriage  Levin  had  opened  his  eyes  to  so 
many  new  and  serious  sides  of  life  which  had  hitherto 
seemed  to  him,  in  his  superficial  view  of  them,  of  no 
great  importance,  that  now  in  the  matter  of  the  elections 
he  looked  for  a  serious  significance  and  found  one. 

Sergye'f  Ivanovitch  explained  to  him  the  idea  and  sig- 
nificance of  the  change  which  was  proposed  to  the  elec- 
tors. The  governmental  predvodityel,  or  marshal  of 
nobility,  had  charge  of  very  many  matters  of  public  im- 
portance,—  as,  for  example,  guardianships,  such  as  the 
one  which  Levin  himself  was  now  trying  to  bring  into  a 
satisfactory  shape,  —  and  large  sums  of  money  and  the 
direction  of  the  gymnasia,  or  schools  for  women,  and  for 
the  peasantry  and  the  militarv  and  the  training  of  the 


ANNA    KARENINA  183 

people  for  their  new  duties,  and  finally  of  the  zemstvo,  or 
popular  assembly.  Now  the  present  marshal,  Snetkof, 
was  a  man  of  the  old  aristocratic  stamp,  who  had  squan- 
dered an  enormous  property,  was  a  very  worthy  and 
honorable  man  in  his  way,  but  wholly  incapable  of  com- 
prehending the  new  needs  of  the  present  time.  He 
always  on  every  occasion  took  the  side  of  the  nobles; 
he  always  cast  the  whole  weight  of  his  influence  against 
the  extension  of  popular  education  and  he  gave  the 
zemstvo,  which  was  coming  to  have  such  an  enormous 
significance,  a  partisan  character. 

It  was  considered  necessary  to  put  in  his  place  a  new 
and  active  man,  imbued  with  the  most  enhghtened 
modern  ideas,  and  to  manage  the  business  so  as  to  ex- 
tract from  all  the  rights  given  to  the  noblesse,^  not  as  the 
noblesse,  but  simply  as  a  constituent  part  of  the  zemstvo, 
such  advantages  of  self-government  as  were  possible. 

In  the  rich  government  of  Kashin,  which  always  took 
the  lead  in  every  advance,  such  forces  were  now  con- 
centrated that  the  business  now  before  the  assembled 
nobles  would  be  likely  to  set  an  example  for  all  the 
other  departments,  indeed  for  all  Russia.  And  there- 
fore the  business  had  a  great  importance. 

It  was  proposed  to  elect  as  marshal  instead  of  Snet- 
kof, either  Sviazhsky,  or,  still  better,  Nevyedovsky,  a 
man  of  eminent  understanding,  formerly  a  professor, 
who  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Sergyei  Ivanovitch's. 

The  sobranic,  or  provincial  assembly,  was  opened  by^ 
speech  from  the  governor,  who  urged  the  nobility  to  elect 
the  necessary  functionaries,  not  from  partisan  reasons,  but 
for  merit  and  for  the  public  weal ;  and  he  hoped  that 
the  nobility  of  the  department  of  Kashin  would  do  their 
duty,  as  they  had  always  done,  and  thus  deserve  their 
monarch's  confidence. 

Having  finished  his  speech,  the  governor  left  the  hall, 
and  the  noblemen,  tumultuously  and  eagerly,  and  some 
of  them  even  enthusiastically,  followed  him,  and  sur- 
rounded him  while  he  was  putting  on  his  shuba,  and  talk- 
ing in  a  friendly  way  with  the  government  marshal. 

^  Dvorianslvo. 


1 84  ANNA   KARENINA 

Levin,  anxious  to  see  everybody  and  miss  nothing, 
was  in  the  midst  of  the  throng,  and  he  heard  the  gov- 
ernor say,  "  Please  tell  Marya  Ivanovna  that  my  wife  is 
very  sorry,  but  she  had  to  go  to  the  asylum." 

Then  all  the  nobles  gayly  took  their  shubas,  and  went 
in  a  body  to  the  cathedral. 

In  the  cathedral  Levin,  together  with  the  rest,  raised 
his  hand  and  repeated,  after  the  protopope,  the  solemn 
oaths  by  which  they  swore  to  fulfil  their  duties.  The 
church  service  always  impressed  Levin,  and  when  he 
joined  with  this  throng  of  men,  old  and  young,  in  re- 
peating the  words,  "  I  kiss  the  cross,"  he  felt  stirred. 

On  the  second  and  third  day  the  assembly  was  occu- 
pied with  the  moneys  meant  for  the  educational  estab- 
lishments for  the  nobility  and  for  women,  which  Sergye'i 
Ivanovitch  declared  had  no  especial  importance,  and 
Levin,  who  had  his  own  business  to  attend  to,  was  not 
present. 

On  the  fourth  day  the  verifying  of  the  government 
accounts  came  up,  and  here,  for  the  first  time,  the  new 
party  came  into  direct  collision  with  the  old.  The  com- 
mission, whose  duty  it  was  to  verify  these  accounts, 
announced  to  the  assembly  that  the  money  was  all 
accounted  for.  The  government  marshal  arose,  and 
with  tears  in  his  eyes  thanked  the  nobility  for  their  con- 
fidence in  him.  The  nobles  loudly  congratulated  him, 
and  shook  hands  with  him. 

.  But  at  this  time  one  noble  belonging  to  Sergyei 
Ivanovitch's  party  declared  that  he  had  heard  that  the 
commission,  for  fear  of  affronting  the  government  mar- 
shal, had  not  properly  performed  the  verification  of  the 
accounts.  One  of  the  members  of  the  commission  un- 
guardedly admitted  this.  Then  a  very  small  and  very 
young-looking,  but  very  sarcastic,  gentleman  began  to 
say  that  it  would  probably  be  agreeable  for  the  govern- 
ment marshal  to  give  an  account  of  his  expenditures, 
and  that  the  excessive  dehcacy  of  the  members  of  the 
commission  had  deprived  him  of  that  moral  satisfaction. 
Thereupon  the  members  of  the  commission  withdrew 
their  report,  and  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  began  logically  to 


ANNA   KARENINA  185 

prove  that  it  was  necessary  to  acknowledge  that  the 
expenditures  had  been  verified  or  that  they  had  not  been 
\'erified,  and  he  went  into  a  long  exposition  of  the 
dilemma. 

A  chatterer  from  the  opposite  party  replied  to 
Sergyei  Ivanovitch.  Then  Sviazhsky  spoke,  and  was 
followed  by  the  sarcastic  gentleman.  The  proceedings 
were  tedious,  and  no  end  was  reached.  Levin  was  sur- 
prised that  they  discussed  this  so  long,  and  all  the  more 
because,  when  he  asked  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  whether 
Snetkof  were  suspected  of  peculation,  he  replied  :  — 

"Oh,  he's  an  honest  man.  But  we  must  shake  this 
old-fashioned  patriarchal  way  of  managing  business." 

On  the  fifth  day  occurred  the  election  of  the  district 
marshals.  The  session  was  a  stormy  one  for  many  of 
the  districts.  In  the  iiyczd  or  district  of  Seleznevskoye, 
Sviazhsky  was  unanimously  elected  by  acclamation,  and 
he  gave  a  grand  dinner  the  same  evening. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

The  principal  election,  that  of  marshal  of  the  govern- 
ment, did  not  take  place  until  the  sixth  da)'. 

The  great  halls  and  the  little  halls  were  crowded  with 
nobles  in  their  various  uniforms.  Many  came  for  this 
day  only.  Acquaintances  who  had  not  met  for  years 
were  there,  some  from  the  Krimea,  some  from  Peters- 
burg, some  from  abroad.  The  debates  were  carried  on 
at  the  governor's  table,  under  the  emperor's  portrait. 

The  nobles  both  in  the  larger  and  in  the  smaller  hall 
were  grouped  in  opposing  camps,  and,  judging  by  the 
hostile  and  mistrustful  looks  exchanged,  by  the  conversa- 
tions which  ceased  at  the  approach  of  strangers,  by  the 
fact  that  some  walked  up  and  down  the  distant  corridor 
whispering  together,  it  was  evident  that  each  side  had 
secrets  from  the  other.  Even  by  a  superficial  glance  it 
could  be  seen  that  the  nobles  were  divided  into  two 
sharply  contrasting  types  :  the  old  and  the  new.  The 
old  school  wore  for  the  most  part  either  old  court  uni- 


i86  ANNA    KARENINA 

forms,  tightly  buttoned  up,  with  swords,  and  ancient 
hats,  or  else  their  ordinary  marine,  cavalry,  or  infantry 
uniforms  of  very  ancient  date.  The  uniforms  of  the 
old  nobles  were  made  in  the  ancient  style,  with  epau- 
lets on  the  shoulders,  and  with  short  waists  and  tight 
armholes,  as  if  their  possessors  had  grown  out  of  them ; 
but  the  younger  men  wore  court  uniforms  with  broad 
shoulders,  long  waists,  and  white  waistcoats  unbuttoned, 
or  else  uniforms  with  black  collars  and  embroidered 
laurel  leaves  —  the  distinguishing  badge  of  the  ministry 
of  justice.  Court  uniforms  were  to  be  seen  here  and 
there,  also  among  the  young  men,  adding  to  the  brilliancy 
of  the  throng. 

But  the  division  into  "  old  "  and  "  young "  did  not 
coincide  with  the  party  lines.  Some  of  the  younger 
men,  to  Levin's  surprise,  belonged  to  the  old  party,  and, 
on  the  contrary,  some  of  the  very  oldest  nobles  were  on 
confidential  terms  with  Sviazhsky  and  were  evidently 
warm  partizans  of  the  new  school. 

In  the  smaller  hall,  where  men  were  smoking  and 
lunching,  Levin  was  standing  near  a  group  of  his  friends 
and  listening  to  what  was  said,  and  vainly  exerting  all 
his  intellectual  powers  to  comprehend  what  was  said. 
Sergye'f  Ivanovitch  was  the  center  around  whom  many 
men  had  gathered.  He  was  now  listening  to  Sviazhsky 
and  Khliustof,  the  marshal  of  another  district,  who  be- 
longed to  their  party.  Khliustof  would  not  agree  to  go 
with  his  district  and  beg  Snetkof  to  stand  as  candidate ; 
but  Sviazhsky  advised  him  to  do  this,  and  Sergyei  Ivano- 
vitch approved  of  this  plan.  Levin  could  not  under- 
stand why  a  party  opposed  to  this  marshal  and  wanting  to 
defeat  him  should  nevertheless  put  him  up  as  a  candidate. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  who  had  just  been  lunching 
and  drinking,  joined  them  in  his  chamberlain's  uniform, 
wiping  his  mouth  with  a  perfumed  and  embroidered 
cambric  handkerchief. 

"We  hold  the  situation,"  said  he,  arranging  both  his 
side-whiskers,  "Sergyei  Ivanovitch;"  and  after  he  heard 
Sviazhsky's  plan  he  agreed  with  him. 

"  One  district  is  enough,  but  let  Sviazhsky  pretend  to 


ANNA   KARENINA  187 

be  in  opposition  ; "  and  all  except  Levin  understood  the 
meaning  of  his  words. 

"Well,  how  is  Kostia?"  he  said,  turning  to  Levin  and 
taking  him  by  the  arm.    "  So  you  came,  it  seems,  in  style." 

Levin  would  not  have  been  sorry  to  be  in  style,  but 
he  could  not  comprehend  what  was  taking  place,  and, 
going  a  few  steps  from  the  rest,  he  expressed  to  him  his 
astonishment  at  seeing  the  hostile  districts  asking  the  old 
marshal  to  stand  as  candidate. 

"  O  sancta  sijnplicitas  !"  replied  Oblonsky  ;  and  in  a 
few  clear  words  he  explained  to  Levin  what  the  state  of 
the  case  was. 

"  If,  as  at  the  last  elections,  all  the  districts  should  . 
unite  on  the  government  marshal,  he  would  be  elected. 
This  is  not  what  is  wanted.  Now  eight  of  the  districts 
have  agreed  to  ask  him  to  stand.  But  if  two  should 
refuse  to  accept  him  for  their  candidate,  then  Snetkof 
might  dechne  to  stand.  And  then  the  old  party  might 
take  for  their  candidate  some  one  else  in  their  party,  so 
that  the  whole  scheme  would  be  defeated.  But  if  Sviazh- 
sky's  district  is  the  only  one  refusing  to  adopt  him  as 
their  candidate,  Snetkof  will  accept  the  nomination.  So 
he  is  selected  and  proposed  as  a  candidate  so  as  to 
throw  dust  in  the  eyes  of  the  opposite  party,  and  when 
we  set  up  our  candidate  they  will  go  over  to  him." 

Levin  began  to  get  some  idea  of  the  plan,  but  it  was 
not  entirely  clear  to  him,  and  he  was  about  to  ask  a  few 
more  questions,  when  suddenly  there  was  heard  in  the 
next  room  a  great  shouting  and  uproar  and  confusion  :  — 

"  What  is  it  ^    What  .-*    Who  .''....  Confidence  in  whom .? 

What .'' ....  It  is  disproved Lack  of  confidence They 

won't  admit  Flerof ....  prosecution They  refuse  to  ad- 
mit a  man  .■*  Shame  ! ....  The  law."  Such  were  the  words 
that  Levin  heard  shouted  from  all  sides,  and  he,  together 
with  all  the  rest,  hurrying  from  all  directions  and  shout- 
ing at  the  tops  of  their  voices,  rushed  into  the  great 
hall,  and,  pressing  along  with  all  the  nobles,  he  made 
his  way  up  to  the  governor's  table,  about  which  the 
government  marshal,  Sviazhsky,  and  other  leaders  were 
hotly  discussing. 


i88  ANNA    KARENINA 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

Levin  stood  at  quite  a  distance.  A  noble  breathing 
stertorously  near  him  and  another  with  thick  squeaking 
soles  prevented  him  from  hearing  distinctly.  All  he 
could  distinguish  was  the  marshal's  gentle  voice,  then 
the  sharjD  voice  of  the  sarcastic  gentleman,  and  then  the 
voice  of  Sviazhsky.  He  could  only  distinguish  that  they 
were  disputing  about  the  meaning  of  a  clause  of  the  law, 
and  the  meaning  of  the  words,  "  nakhodivshayosa  pod 
slyedstviem.'" 

The  crowd  parted  to  let  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  get  to  the 
table.  Sergye'f  Ivanovitch,  after  waiting  till  the  sar- 
castic gentleman  was  done  speaking,  said  that  it  seemed 
to  him  it  would  be  a  better  way  to  consult  the  law 
itself,  and  he  asked  the  secretary  to  find  for  him  the 
text  of  the  law.  The  law  said  that  in  case  of  divergence 
of  opinion  a  vote  must  be  taken. 

Sergyei  Ivanovitch  read  the  clause,  and  was  just 
beginning  to  explain  its  meaning  when  he  was  inter- 
rupted by  a  tall,  stout,  round-shouldered  proprietor,  with 
dyed  whiskers,  and  wearing  a  tight  uniform  with  a  high 
collar  which  seemed  to  prop  up  the  back  of  his  head. 
This  man  came  up  to  the  table,  and,  striking  it  with  his 
fist,  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice  :  — 

"Put  it  to  the  ballot.  Vote  on  it!  No  discussing! 
The  ballot !  " 

Then  suddenly  a  number  of  voices  broke  out  at  once, 
and  the  tall  noble,  still  pounding  with  his  fist,  grew 
angrier  and  angrier,  and  shouted  louder  and  louder. 
But  it  was  impossible  to  make  out  what  he  was  talking 
about. 

He  said  the  same  thing  as  SergyeT  Ivanovitch  had 
proposed;  but  evidently  he  hated  Koznuishef  and  his 
whole  party,  and  this  feeling  of  hatred  communicated 
itself  to  the  whole  party,  and  called  forth  the  opposition 
of  similar,  though  more  decorous,  hatred  from  the  other 
side. 

Voices  were  raised  and  for  a  moment  everything  was 


ANNA    KARENINA  189 

in  confusion,  so  that  the  government  marshal  was  obliged 
to  call  for  order  :  — 

"  Put  it  to  vote,  put  it  to  vote.      That  man  knows 

what  he  is  talking  about !     There  '11  be  bloodshed 

The  emperor's  confidence Don't  count  the  marshal, 

he 's  not  our  prikashchik That's    not  the  point!,... 

Please,  put  it  to  vote It's  odious!"  were  the  ex- 
clamations heard  on  every  side  in  angry,  violent  tones. 
Eyes  and  faces  became  still  angrier  and  more  violent, 
with  words  of  irreconcilable  hatred.  Levin  did  not 
understand  at  all  what  the  trouble  was,  and  was  amazed 
at  the  passion  with  which  they  discussed  the  question 
whether  they  should  vote  or  not  vote  on  the  opinion 
concerning  Flerof.  He  forgot,  as  Sergyei"  Ivanovitch 
afterward  explained  to  him,  the  syllogism  that  for  the 
common  weal  it  was  necessary  to  elect  a  new  govern- 
ment marshal;  to  defeat  the  present  marshal  a  majority 
of  the  votes  was  needed ;  to  get  a  majority  of  the  votes 
it  was  necessary  to  give  Flerof  the  right  of  voting ;  to 
pronounce  Flerof  qualified  it  was  necessary  to  have  it 
decided  how  the  clause  of  the  law  was  to  be  understood. 

"  One  voice  may  decide  the  whole  matter,  and  we 
must  be  serious  and  logical  if  we  wish  to  act  for  the 
public  good,"  said  Sergyei  Ivanovitch,  in  conclusion. 

But  Levin  forgot  this,  and  it  was  trying  for  him  to 
see  these  excellent  men,  for  whom  he  had  such  respect,  in 
such  a  disagreeable  and  angry  frame  of  mind.  In  order 
to  avoid  this  feeling  he,  without  waiting  for  the  end  of 
the  election,  went  into  the  smaller  hall,  where  there  was 
no  one  except  the  servants  connected  with  the  buffet. 

Seeing  the  servants  busily  engaged  in  polishing  the 
service  and  putting  away  the  plates  and  glasses,  seeing 
their  contented  lively  faces,  Levin  felt  an  unexpected 
feeling  of  relief,  just  as  if  he  had  come  out  from  an  ill- 
smelling  room  into  pure  air.  He  began  to  walk  back 
and  forth,  watching  the  servants.  It  pleased  him  greatly 
to  watch  one  of  the  servants,  an  old  man  with  gray  side- 
whiskers,  expressing  his  scorn  for  the  younger  ones,  who 
stood  in  awe  of  him,  teaching  them  the  best  way  of  folding 
napkins.     Levin  was  just  about  to  engage  the  old  ser- 


190 


ANNA    KARENINA 


vant  in  conversation,  when  the  Secretary  of  the  Assembly, 
a  little  old  man,  who  made  a  specialty  of  knowing  all  the 
nobles  of  the  province  by  their  full  names,  came  to  call 
him. 

"  Excuse  me,  Konstantin  Dmitritch,"  said  he  ;  "  your 
brother  is  asking  for  you.     The  opinion  is  to  be  voted  on." 

Levin  went  into  the  hall,  took  a  little  white  ball,  'and, 
following  close  behind  Sergyei  Ivanovitch,  he  went  to 
the  table  where  Sviazhsky  was  standing  with  an  impor- 
tant and  ironical  air,  running.his  beard  through  his  hand 
and  occasionally  putting  it  to  his  nose.  Sergyei  Ivano- 
vitch put  his  ball  into  the  ballot-box,  and  made  room  for 
Levin  ;  but  Levin,  having  entirely  forgotten  what  the  vot- 
ing was  for,  was  disconcerted,  and  asked  his  brother:  — 

"Where  shall  I  put  it.'  " 

He  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  and  as  there  was  talking  near 
him,  he  hoped  that  his  question  would  not  be  overheard ; 
but  the  speakers  stopped,  and  his  unfortunate  question 
was  heard.  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  frowned,  and  replied 
sternly  :  — 

"This  is  a  matter  entirely  of  conviction." 

A  number  of  the  bystanders  smiled.  Much  embar- 
rassed, Levin  quickly  cast  his  vote,  and  as  he  happened 
to  hold  it  in  his  right  hand,  he  threw  it  into  the  right- 
hand  receptacle.  Only  after  he  had  deposited  it  did  he 
remember  that  he  ought  to  have  put  it  in  his  left  hand, 
and  he  did  so,  but  it  was  already  too  late ;  and  growing 
still  more  confused,  he  hastily  made  his  way  to  the  very 
rear  rank. 

"  One  hundred  and  twenty-six  in  the  affirmative ;  ninety- 
eight  in  the  negative,"  announced  the  secretary,  who 
could  not  pronounce  the  letter  r.  Then  a  laugh  went 
round ;  a  button  and  two  nuts  were  found  in  the  ballot- 
box.  The  questionable  noble  was  admitted  and  the  new 
party  was  victorious. 

But  the  old  party  did  not  even  yet  acknowledge  itself 
defeated.  Levin  heard  them  request  Snetkof  to  stand 
as  their  candidate,  and  he  saw  a  throng  of  nobles  sur- 
rounding the  government  marshal,  who  was  making  an 
address.     Levin  went  nearer.     In  reply  to  the  nobles, 


ANNA   KARENINA  191 

Snetkcf  was  speaking  of  the  confidence  which  the 
nobihty  had  reposed  in  him,  of  their  love  for  him  which 
he  did  not  deserve,  because  all  his  service  had  consisted 
in  his  devotion  to  the  nobility,  whom  he  had  served  for 
twenty  years.  Several  times  he  repeated  the  words,  "  I 
have  served  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  I  appreciate  your 
confidence  and  thank  you  for  it,"  and  then,  suddenly 
pausing  because  of  the  tears  which  choked  him,  he 
hurried  from  the  room.  His  tears  arose  either  from 
the  injustice  that  had  been  done  him,  or  from  his  love 
for  the  nobles,  or  possibly  from  the  unpleasant  position 
in  which  he  was  placed,  finding  himself  surrounded  by 
enemies;  but  his  grief  was  contagious;  the  majority  of 
the  nobles  were  touched,  and  Levin  felt  sorry  for  him. 

At  the  door  the  government  marshal  stumbled  against 
Levin. 

'' Excuse  me,  —  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  as  to  a 
stranger  ;  then,  recognizing  him,  he  smiled  a  melancholy 
smile.  It  seemed  to  Levin  that  he  wanted  to  say  some- 
thing but  was  prevented  by  his  emotion.  The  expression 
of  his  face  and  his  whole  figure  in  his  uniform,  with  his 
crosses,  and  white  pantaloons  ornamented  with  galloon, 
as  he  hastened  out,  reminded  Levin  of  some  hunted  ani- 
mal which  sees  that  it  has  little  chance  to  escape.  This 
expression  in  the  government  marshal's  face  went  to 
Levin's  heart,  for  only  the  day  before  he  had  been  to  see 
him  about  the  guardianship  affair,  and  had  seen  in  the 
whole  estabHshment  the  dignity  of  a  good-hearted  domes- 
tic gentleman  :  the  house  large,  with  ancestral  furniture  ; 
unstylish,  dirty,  but  dignified,  old  servants  who  had  evi- 
dently been  former  serfs  and  had  not  changed  their  mas- 
ter ;  the  wife,  a  tall,  benevolent  lady  in  her  lace  cap  and 
Turkish  shawl,  caressing  her  lovely  granddaughter ;  the 
youngest  son,  a  boy  in  the  sixth  class  of  the  gymnasium, 
who  had  come  in  to  wish  his  father  good  morning  and 
to  kiss  his  big  hand  ;  the  imposing  but  affectionate  greet- 
ings and  gestures  of  the  master  of  the  house :  all  this 
had  awakened  in  Levin  involuntary  respect  and  sympa- 
thy even  then,  and  now  he  felt  touched  and  sorry  for  the 
old  man,  and  wanted  to  say  something  pleasant  to  him. 


192  ANNA    KARENINA 

"Perhaps  you  will  be  our  marshal  again." 

"  I  doubt  it,"  said  Snetkof,  with  his  scared  look.  "  1 
am  tired,  getting  old.  There  are  younger  and  better 
men  than  I.  Must  let  them  take  my  place."  And  he 
disappeared  by  a  side  door. 

Now  the  most  solemn  moment  had  arrived.  It  was 
necessary  to  proceed  immediately  to  the  election  itself. 
The  leaders  of  both  parties  were  counting  on  their  fin- 
gers the  white  and  black  balls.  The  controversy  re- 
garding Flerof  gave  the  new  party  not  only  one  more 
vote,  but  also  gained  time,  so  that  they  could  send  for 
three  nobles,  whom  the  trickery  of  the  old  party  was 
going  to  deprive  of  the  possibility  of  taking  part  in  the 
election.  Two  nobles  who  had  a  weakness  for  wine  had 
been  made  drunk  by  Snetkof's  henchmen,  and  a  third 
had  been  seduced  by  the  promise  of  a  uniform. 

Having  learned  about  this,  the  new  party  had  made 
haste  during  the  contest  concerning  Flerof  to  send  an 
izvoshchik  for  the  noble  and  to  provide  him  with  a  uni- 
form, and  to  bring  one  of  the  two  drunken  nobles  to  the 
hall. 

"  I  brought  one  of  them,  I  had  to  douse  him  with 
water,"  said  the  proprietor  who  had  gone  in  search  of 
him,  addressing  Sviazhsky.     "He'll  do." 

"  He  's  not  very  drunk,  is  he  ;  can't  he  stand  .-*  "  asked 
Sviazhsky,  shaking  his  head.     "  Yes,  he  's  a  young  man. 

Only  don't  let  them  get  him  to  drinking  here I  told 

the  caterer  not  to  give  him  any  wine  under  any  consid- 
eration." 

CHAPTER   XXIX 

The  narrow  hall  where  men  smoked  and  had  lun- 
cheon was  crowded  with  nobles.  The  excitement  kept 
increasing,  and  all  faces  showed  signs  of  anxiety.  Es- 
pecially agitated  were  the  leaders,  who  knew  all  the 
details  and  had  followed  the  voting  very  closely.  These 
men  had  charge  of  the  approaching  engagement.  The 
others,  like  the  soldiers  in  the  ranks  before  the  battle, 
although  ready  for  the  conflict,  in  the  meantime  sought 


ANNA    KARENINA 


^93 


diversion.  Some  ate  luncheon,  standing  or  sitting  at 
the  buffet;  others  walked  up  and  down  the  long  room 
smoking  cigarettes,  and  talked  with  friends  whom  they 
had  not  seen  for  long. 

Levin  did  not  feel  hungry,  he  did  not  smoke,  and  he 
did  not  care  to  join  his  friends,  that  is,  Sergyei  Ivano- 
vitch,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  Sviazhsky,  and  the  others, 
for  the  reason  that  Vronsky  in  his  equerry's  uniform 
stood  in  lively  conversation  with  them.  The  evening 
before  he  had  seen  Vronsky  at  the  election,  and  had 
carefully  avoided  him,  not  wishing  to  come  into  contact 
with  him.  He  went  to  a  window  and  sat  down,  watch- 
ing the  groups  and  listening  to  what  was  said  around 
him.  He  felt  depressed,  especially  because  all  the  others, 
as  he  could  see,  were  animated,  active,  and  occupied,  and 
he  alone  was  inert  and  indifferent ;  the  only  other  excep- 
tion was  an  old  man  in  a  naval  uniform,  who  had  no  teeth 
and  who  spoke  in  a  mumbling  voice. 

"What  a  rogue.  I  told  him  it  was  not  so  I  He  can't 
make  it  up  in  three  years,"  a  round-shouldered,  short 
proprietor  w^as  saying  energetically;  this  man,  whose 
long  unpomaded  hair  was  spread  out  over  the  embroi- 
dered collar  of  his  uniform  coat,  walked  along,  noisily 
putting  down  the  heels  of  his  new  boots  which  evidently 
had  been  made  for  the  elections  ;  but  as  he  caught  sight 
of  Levin  he  cast  a  hostile  glance  at  him,  and  turned 
about  abruptly. 

"Yes,  it  is  a  nasty  thing  to  say  so,"  repeated  the 
little  proprietor,  in  a  piping  voice. 

Immediately  behind  these  two  came  a  whole  throng 
of  proprietors,  crowding  around  a  tall  general,  and 
quickly  approaching  where  Levin  was.  They  were  evi- 
dently trying  to  find  some  place  where  they  would  not 
be  overheard.  "  How  does  he  dare  to  say  that  I  ordered 
his  trousers  to  be  stolen.  He  drank  them  up,  I  reckon. 
I  don't  care  a  straw  if  he  is  a  prince.  Don't  let  him 
dare  to  say  such  a  thing  ;  it 's  swinish!  " 

"  Hold  on,  excuse  me.  They  insist  on  the  letter  of 
the  law,"  they  were  saying  in  another  group;  "his 
wife  must  be  inscribed  among  the  nobility." 

VOL,  III,  —  13 


194 


ANNA    KARENINA 


"  The  devil  take  the  letter  of  the  law  !  I  insist  on  its 
spirit.  According  to  that  they  are  genuine  nobles,  be- 
lieve me." 

"  Your  excellency,  let  us  come,  fine  champagne  !  " 

Another  group  immediately  pressed  behind  a  noble 
who  was  shouting  something  at  the  top  of  his  voice ; 
this  was  one  of  the  three  drunken  nobles. 

"  I  always  advised  Marya  Semyonovna  to  let  it  on  a 
lease  because  she  gets  no  profit  out  of  it,"  a  proprietor 
was  saying  in  a  pleasant  voice.  This  man  had  gray 
whiskers  and  wore  the  uniform  of  a  colonel  on  the  old 
general's  staff.  It  \yas  the  same  proprietor  whom  he  had 
once  met  at  Sviazhsky's  house.  Levin  immediately 
recognized  him.  The  proprietor  also  glanced  at  Levin, 
and  they  greeted  each  other. 

"This  is  very  pleasant.  How  are  you?  I  remember 
you  very  well.  We  met  last  year  at  Nikolai'  Ivanovitch's, 
at  the  marshal's." 

"Well,  how  goes  your  farming .-"  "  ^  asked  Levin.  . 

"  Everything  is  going  to  rack  and  ruin,"  said  the  pro- 
prietor, halting  near  Levin,  and  looking  at  him  with  a 
submissive  smile,  but  with  an  expression  of  calmness 
and  confidence  that  this  was  the  natural  order  of  things. 

"  But  how  does  it  happen  that  you  are  in  our  part  of 
the  world  .^  "  he  asked.  "  Did  you  come  to  take  part  in 
o\xr  coup  d'etat  f  he  went  on,  pronouncing  the  French 
words  with  confidence,  but  with  a  bad  accent. 

"  All  Russia  is  assembled  here,  —  chamberlains,  if  not 
ministers." 

He  pointed  to  Stepan  Arkadyevitch's  imposing  figure, 
as  in  white  trousers  and  chamberlain's  uniform  he  strode 
along  next  the  general. 

"  I  must  confess  to  you,"  said  Levin,  "  I  don't  under- 
stand the  significance  of  these  noblemen's  elections." 

The  old  gentleman  looked  at  him. 

"  Well !  what  is  there  to  understand }  what  signifi- 
cance can  they  have  }  It 's  a  decaying  institution  which 
prolongs  itself  by  the  force  of  inertia.  Look  at  all  these 
uniforms ;  they  tell  you  this  is  an  assemblage  of  justices 

1  KhozyaistvOy  everything  connected  with  his  estate. 


ANNA    KARENINA  195 

of  the  peace,  perpetual  councilors,  and  so  on,  but  no 
noblemen." 

"  Why,  then,  do  you  come  ?  " 

"  From  habit,  to  keep  up  relations ;  from  a  sort  of 
moral  obligation.  And  then,  if  I  must  tell  the  truth,  I 
came  on  a  question  of  personal  interest.  My  son-in-law 
wants  to  be  elected  as  a  perpetual  councilor ;  he  's  not 
rich  ;  I  must  try  to  help  him.  But  why  do  such  people 
as  that  come  .-* "  and  he  pointed  out  the  orator  whose 
sharp  voice  had  struck  Levin  during  the  debates  at  the 
governor's  table. 

"  It  is  a  new  generation  of  nobles."  ^ 

"  Certainly  new,  but  not  nobles.  They  are  landhold- 
ers, but  we  are  the  proprietors.  But  they  are  trying  to 
get  the  power  as  if  they  were  nobles." 

"  Yes,  but  you  say  it  is  a  decaying  institution  ?" 

"  Decaying  or  not  decaying,  it  must  be  treated  more 
respectfully.  Even  though  Snetkof ....  We  may  not  be 
worth  much,  but,  nevertheless,  we  have  lasted  a  thousand 
years.  Suppose  you  lay  out  a  new  garden  before  your 
house  and  there  happens  to  be  a  century-old  tree  which 

has  grown  up  on  your  land Though  the  tree  is  old 

and  gnarled,  you  don't  have  it  cut  down,  but  you  lay  out 
your  walks  and  your  flower-beds  in  such  a  way  as  to 
preserve  intact  the  old  oak.  You  can't  grow  such  a 
tree  in  one  year,"  said  he,  cautiously,  and  immediately 
changed  the  conversation.  "  Well,  how  do  matters  go 
with  you  ? " 

"  Not  very  brilliantly  ;  five  per  cent !  " 

"  Yes,  but  you  don't  reckon  your  own  time  and  labor. 
Now,  I  will  tell  you  about  myself.  Up  to  the  time 
when  I  began  to  take  care  of  my  own  estate,  and  while 
I  was  still  in  the  service,  I  used  to  receive  three  thou- 
sand a  year.  Now  I  work  harder  than  when  I  was 
in  the  service,  and  I  also  get  about  five  per  cent,  and 
am  lucky  if  I  get  that.  And  all  my  time  and  trouble 
are  thrown  in." 

"  But  why  do  you  do  so  if  the  results  are  so  unprofit 
able  ?  " 

*  Dvorianstvo,  noblessc. 


196  ANNA   KARENINA 

"Yes,  why  do  I?  What  shall  I  say?  Habit,  and 
because  I  know  it  has  got  to  be  done.  I  will  tell  you 
something  besides,"  continued  the  proprietor,  leaning 
his  elbow  on  the  window-seat  and  falling  into  a  tone  of 
monologue,  "  my  son  has  no  taste  for  farming. ^  He  is 
evidently  going  to  be  a  scholar.  So  there  '11  be  no  one 
to  carry  it  on  after  me.  And  yet  one  goes  ahead.  Here 
I  've  just  planted  a  garden." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Levin.  "  You  are  quite  right.  I 
always   am  conscious  that  there  's  no  real  economy  in 

my  farming,  but  still  I  go  on  with  it But  one  feels 

that  one  owes  a  certain  duty  to  the  land." 

"  Now  I  will  tell  you  another  thing,"  continued  the 
proprietor.  "A  neighbor,  a  merchant,  came  to  see  me. 
We  went  over  the  farm,  and  then  the  garden.  '  Well, 
Stepan  Vasilyevitch,  your  place  is  in  order,'  said  he, 
'but  your  garden  has  too  much  shade.'  But  he  found 
it  in  order,  mind  you.  '  My  advice  would  be,  cut  down 
those  lindens.  Just  for  the  bark.  Here  are  a  thousand 
lindens.  Each  one  will  make  two  excellent  basts,  and 
basts  sell  well.  If  I  were  you,  I  should  cut  some  of 
that  linden  trash  down  and  sell  it.'  " 

"  Yes,  and  with  the  money  he  would  buy  cattle,  or 
perhaps  a  bit  of  ground  cheap,  and  he  would  lease  it  to 
the  peasants,"  said  Levin,  with  a  smile,  for  evidently  he 
had  more  than  once  come  in  contact  with  similar  cases. 
"  And  so  he  makes  a  fortune.  But  you  and  I  thank 
God  if  we  keep  our  land,  and  are  able  to  leave  it  to  our 
children." 

"  You  are  married,  I  have  heard  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Levin,  with  proud  satisfaction.  "It 
is  wonderful !  We  live  without  making  any  profit, 
obliged,  like  ancient  vestals,  to  watch  some  holy  fire." 

The  old  gentleman  smiled  under  his  white  mustache. 

"  Some  people,  like  our  friend  Sviazhsky  and  Count 
Vronsky,  pretend  to  make  something  by  agriculture ; 
but  so  far  they  have  only  succeeded  in  eating  into  their 
capital." 

"  Why  should  n't  we  imitate  the  merchants,  and  cut 

*  Khozya'istvo. 


ANNA    KARENINA  197 

down  the  trees  in  our  parks  and  make  money  ?  "  asked 
Levin,  reverting  to  the  idea  which  had  struck  him. 

"  Just  this  !  because  we  guard  the  sacred  fire,  as  you 
say.  Besides,  that  is  not  the  business  of  the  nobles. 
And  our  work  as  nobles  does  not  lie  here,  at  these  elec- 
tions, but  at  home,  each  in  his  own  place.  It  is  a  caste 
instinct  that  tells  us  what  is  necessary  or  not  necessary. 
The  muzhiks  have  theirs ;  a  good  muzhik  will  persist 
in  hiring  as  much  land  as  he  can.  No  matter  how  bad 
it  is,  he  will  work  it  just  the  same,  —  even  without 
profit." 

"  We  are  all  alike,"  said  Levin.  "  I  am  very  glad  to 
have  met  you !  "  he  added,  seeing  Sviazhsky  approach- 
ing. 

"  Here  we  have  met  for  the  first  time  since  we  were 
together  at  your  house,"  said  the  proprietor  to  Svi- 
azhsky.    "Yes,  and  we  have  been  having  a  talk." 

"  And  doubtless  have  been  slandering  the  new  order 
of  things.''  "  said  Sviazhsky,  smiling. 

"Something  of  the  sort." 

"  One  must  free  one's  mind." 


CHAPTER  XXX 

Sviazhsky  took  Levin's  aj;m,  and  together  they  ap- 
proached their  friends. 

It  was  now  impossible  to  avoid  Vronsky.  He  was 
standing  with  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  and  Sergyei"  Ivano- 
vitch,  and  was  looking  straight  at  Levin  as  he  came 
along. 

"  I  am  delighted ! "  said  he,  offering  his  hand  to 
Levin.  "  I  think  we  met  at  the  Princess  Shcher- 
batsky's." 

"  Yes,  I  remember  our  meeting  perfectly,"  answered 
Levin,  growing  purple ;  and  he  immediately  turned 
away  and  entered  into  conversation  with  his  brother. 

Vronsky,  smiling  slightly,  began  conversing  with  Svi- 
azhsky, apparently  having  no  desire  to  continue  his 
talk  with   Levin.     But  Levin,  while   he   was   speaking 


198  ANNA    KARENINA 

with  his  brother,  kept  looking  at  Vronsky,  trying  tc 
think  of  something  that  he  might  say  to  him  so  as  to 
atone  for  his  rudeness. 

"  On  whom  does  the  business  depend  now  ? "  he 
asked,  turning  to  Sviazhsky  and  Vronsky. 

"  On  Snetkof.  He  must  either  decline  or  consent," 
replied  Sviazhsky. 

"  What  will  he  do,  consent  or  not  ?  " 

"  That  is  where  the  trouble  lies  —  neither  one  thing 
nor  the  other,"  said  Vronsky. 

"  But  who  will  be  nominated  if  he  declines } "  asked 
Levin,  looking  at  Vronsky. 

"  Any  one  may,"  answered  Sviazhsky. 

"You,  perhaps,"  suggested  Levin. 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Sviazhsky,  scowling,  and 
directing  an  agitated  look  at  -the  sarcastic  gentleman 
who  was  standing  near  Sergyei  Ivanovitch. 

"  Who  then  ?  Nevyedovsky  ?  "  continued  Levin,  feel- 
ing that  he  was  treading  on  dangerous  ground. 

But  this  was  still  worse  ;  Nevyedovsky  and  Sviazhsky 
were  two  of  the  candidates. 

"  Not  I  in  any  case,"  replied  the  sarcastic  gentleman. 

It  was  Nevyedovsky  himself.  Sviazhsky  introduced 
him  to  Levin. 

"This  takes  hold  of  you,  doesn't  it  .-* "  asked  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch,  winking  at  .Vronsky.  "It's  just  like  a 
race.     One  might  put  up  stakes." 

"Yes,  indeed  it  takes  hold,"  said  Vronsky.  "And 
having  once  begun  with  it,  one  must  carry  it  through. 
It's  a  battle,"  said  he,  contracting  his  brows  and  com- 
pressing his  powerful  jaws. 

"What  a  worker  Sviazhsky  is!  He  sees  everything 
so  clearly  and  plans  in  advance !  " 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Vronsky,  heedlessly. 

A  silence  followed,  during  which  Vronsky,  since  it 
was  necessary  to  look  at  something,  looked  at  Levin,  at 
his  legs,  at  his  uniform,  and  then  at  his  face ;  and  notic- 
ing his  downcast  expression  said,  for  the  sake  of  say- 
ing something :  — 

"  How  is  it  that  you  who  live  in  the  country  are  not  a 


ANNA    KARENINA  199 

justice  of  the  peace  ?  Your  uniform  is  not  that  of  a  jus- 
tice, I  see." 

"  Because  I  think  that  justices  of  the  peace  are  an 
absurd  institution,"  answered  Levin,  gloomily,  but  all  the 
time  hoping  for  an  opportunity  to  atone  for  his  former 
rudeness. 

"  I  do  not  think  so;  on  the  contrary  ...."  said  Vronsky, 
surprised. 

"It  is  all  child's  play,"  interrupted  Levin;  "justices 
of  the  peace  are  unnecessary  for  us.  In  eight  years  I 
never  have  had  any  business  with  one.  And  the  one 
case  I  had  was  decided  exactly  contrary  to  the  evidence. 
There  's  a  justice  of  the  peace  forty  versts  from  me.  I 
had  a  small  matter  amounting  to  two  rubles ;  I  had  to 
send  for  a  lawyer,  and  that  cost  fifteen  ...." 

And  Levin  went  on  to  tell  how  a  muzhik  had  stolen 
some  flour  from  a  miller,  and  when  the  miller  charged 
him  with  it,  the  muzhik  made  a  calumnious  complaint. 

All  this  was  not  to  the  point,  and  awkwardly  put,  and 
Levin  himself,  while  speaking,  felt  it. 

"  Oh,  this  is  such  an  original!''  said  Stepan  Arka- 
dyevitch,  with  his  oily  smile.  "  Come  on ;  it  seems 
they  are  balloting.".... 

And  they  separated. 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  Sergye'i  Ivanovitch,  who 
had  noticed  his  brother's  awkward  sally,  "  I  don't  under- 
stand how  it  is  possible  to  be  so  absolutely  devoid  of 
political  tact.  It  is  just  what  we  Russians  lack.  The  gov- 
ernment marshal  is  our  opponent,  and  you  are  ami  cocJion, 
you  are  on  intimate  terms  with  him.  But  why  on  earth 
make  an  enemy  of  Count  Vronsky  .''....  not  that  I  make  a 
friend  of  him,  for  I  have  just  refused  his  invitation  to 
dinner ;  but  he  is  ours.  Then  you  asked  Nevyedovsky  if 
he  was  going  to  be  a  candidate.  It  is  n't  the  right  way 
to  act." 

"Oh!  I  don't  understand  anything  about  it;  it  all 
seems  to  me  unimportant,"  said  Levin,  gloomily. 

"  You  say  that  it  is  unimportant ;  but  when  you  mix 
up  in  it,  you  spoil  it." 

Levin  was  silent,  and  they  entered  the  large  hall. 


200  ANNA    KARENINA 

■  The  old  marshal  had  decided  to  be  a  candidate, 
although  he  felt  that  there  was  something  up,  some  trick 
in  preparation  ;  and  though  he  knew  that  not  all  the  dis- 
tricts had  nominated  him,  still  he  decided  to  stand. 

Silence  reigned  in  the  hall;  the  secretary  in  a  loud 
voice  explained  that  votes  would  now  be  cast  for  Mikhai'l 
Stepanovitch  Snetkof,  captain  of  the  guard,^  as  govern- 
ment marshal. 

The  district  marshals  went  from  their  desks  to  the 
government  table  with  plates  in  which  were  the  ballots, 
and  the  election  began.  "  Deposit  it  at  the  right,"  whis- 
pered Stepan  Arkadyevitch  to  Levin,  as  he  and  his 
brother  approaclied  the  table  behind  the  district  mar- 
shal. But  Levin  now  forgot  the  count  which  they  had 
explained  to  him,  and  was  afraid  that  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch had  made  a  mistake  in  saying  "At  the  right."  Now 
Snetkof  was  the  opposition  candidate.  Going  up  to  the 
box.  Levin  held  the  ballot  in  his  right  hand,  but  thinking 
that  he  was  wrong,  he  transferred  the  ballot  to  his  left 
hand  just  in  front  of  the  box  itself,  and  consequently  de- 
posited it  in  the  wrong  place.  The  tally-keeper  who 
stood  by  the  box,  knowing  by  the  mere  motion  of  the 
elbow  how  each  one  voted,  involuntarily  frowned. 
There  was  no  reason  for  him  to  practise  his  cleverness. 

Deep  silence  reigned  and  the  click  of  the  ballots  was 
heard.  Then  a  single  voice  was  heard  announcing  the 
affirmative  and  negative  votes. 

The  marshal  was  chosen  by  a  decided  majority.  A 
great  tumult  arose,  and  all  rushed  toward  the  door. 
Snetkof  came  in,  and  the  nobles  surrounded  him,  offer- 
ing him  their  congratulations. 

"  Well !  is  it  over .'' "  asked  Levin  of  Sergyei  Ivanovitch. 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  is  just  begun,"  replied  Sviazhsky, 
taking  the  words  out  of  his  brother's  mouth,  and  smiling. 
"The  opposition  candidate  may  have  more  votes." 

Levin  had  forgotten  all  about  this,  and  only  now  real- 
ized that  this  was  only  finessing.  But  it  was  a  bore  to 
him  to  recall  what  the  plan  had  been.  He  felt  a  sort  of 
humiliation,  and  a  desire  to  escape  from  the  throng.     As 

^  Rotmistr  ovardi. 


ANNA    KARENINA  201 

no  one  paid  any  heed  to  him,  and  he  thought  he  was  o. 
no  use  to  any  one,  he  slipped  out  into  the  smaller  hall, 
where,  as  before,  he  found  consolation  in  watching  the 
servants.  The  old  servant  asked  him  if  he  would  have 
something  to  eat,  and  Levin  consented.  After  he  had 
eaten  a  cutlet  with  beans,  and  had  talked  with  the  ser- 
vants about  their  former  masters,  Levin,  not  caring  to 
go  back  to  the  crowd  which  was  so  unpleasant  to  him, 
walked  about  the  galleries. 

The  galleries  were  full  of  well-dressed  ladies,  who 
were  leaning  over  the  balustrades  endeavoring  not  to 
lose  a  word  that  was  said  in  the  hall  below,  and  around 
them  was  standing  and  sitting  a  throng  of  elegantly 
dressed  lawyers,  professors  of  the  gymnasia  with  spec- 
tacles on,  and  officers.  Everywhere  they  were  talking 
about  the  elections  and  the  proposed  change  in  the  mar- 
shal, and  saying  how  interesting  the  voting  was.  As 
Levin  stood  near  one  group,  he  heard  a  lady  saying  to  a 
lawyer  :  — 

"  How  glad  I  am  that  I  heard  Koznuishef.  It  pays 
to  go  hungry  for  it.  It  was  charming.  How  distinctly 
I  could  hear  all  he  said.  There  is  not  one  who  equals 
him  in  the  court,  only  Maidel,  and  even  he  is  not  nearly 
so  eloquent." 

Finding  a  comfortable  place  near  the  railing,  Levin 
leaned  over  and  tried  to  look  and  to  listen.  All  the 
nobles  were  sitting  behind  screens  in  the  parts  of  the 
hall  devoted  to  their  various  districts.  In  the  center  of 
the  hall  stood  a  gentleman  in  uniform,  and  in  a  light  but 
clear  voice  he  was  saying  :  — 

"  You  will  now  cast  your  votes  for  Staff-Captain 
Yevgeni  Ivanovitch  Apukhtin  as  candidate  for  the  posi- 
tion of  marshal  of  the  nobility  of  the  government." 

A  deathlike  silence  ensued,  and  again  a  weak,  senile 
voice  was  heard  :  — 

"  He  declined." 

Again  the  same  thing  began,  and  again,  "  He  de- 
clined."    So  it  went  on  for  about  an  hour. 

Levin,  leaning  on  the  balustrade,  looked  and  listened. 
At  first  he  was  filled  with  amazement,  and  was  anxious 


202  ANNA    KARENINA 

to  know  what  it  all  meant ;  then,  becoming  persuaded  that 
it  was  beyond  his  power  to  comprehend  it,  it  began  to 
bore  him.  Then,  as  he  thought  of  the  excitement  and 
the  angry  passions  expressed  in  all  faces,  he  felt  mel- 
ancholy ;  he  made  up  his  mind  to  depart,  and  he  started 
down-stairs.  As  he  was  passing  through  the  entry  of 
the  gallery,  he  encountered  a  sad-looking  gymnasium 
scholar  walking  back  and  forth  with  streaming  eyes. 
On  the  staircase  he  met  a  couple,  a  lady  swiftly  hur- 
rying along  on  her  heels,  and  the  gentle  colleague  of  the 
prokuror. 

"  I  told  you  not  to  be  late,"  the  prokuror  was  saying, 
just  as  Levin  stood  to  one  side  to  give  the  lady  room  to 
pass.  Levin  was  on  the  lowest  stair,  and  was  just  get- 
ting the  cloak-check  out  of  his  waistcoat  pocket,  when 
the  secretary  found  him. 

"  Excuse  me,  Konstantin  Dmitriyevitch,  they  are  bal- 
loting." 

And  the  candidate  who  was  now  receiving  votes  was 
this  very  Nevyedovsky  whose  refusal  had  seemed  to  him 
so  explicit ! 

Levin  started  to  go  into  the  hall.  The  door  was 
locked  ;  the  secretary  knocked  ;  the  door  opened,  and  as 
he  entered  he  met  two  very  red-faced  proprietors. 

"  I  cannot  endure  it,"  said  one  of  the  red-faced  pro- 
prietors. 

Immediately  behind  the  proprietor  appeared  the  old 
government  marshal.  His  face  was  terrible  in  its  expres- 
sion of  fright  and  weakness. 

"  I  told  you  not  to  let  any  one  go  out !  "  he  shouted  to 
the  guard. 

"  I  let  some  one  in,  your  excellency."  ^ 

"  O  Lord !  "  and,  sighing  painfully,  the  old  marshal, 
slinking  along  in  his  white  pantaloons,  with  bowed  head, 
went  through  the  hall  to  the  great  table. 

The  vote  was  counted,  and  Nevyedovsky,  as  had 
been  planned,  was  government  marshal.  Many  were 
happy  ;  many  were  satisfied,  gay  ;  many  were  enthusias- 
tic ;  many  were  dissatisfied  and  unhappy.     The  old  gov- 

^  Vashe  prevoskkodityehtvo. 


ANNA    KARENINA  203 

ernment  marshal  was  in  despair,  and  could  not  disguise 
it.  When  Nevyedovsky  went  out  of  the  hall,  the  throng 
surrounded  him  and  expressed  their  enthusiasm  toward 
him  as  they  had  done  toward  the  governor  when  he 
opened  the  election,  and  as  they  had  done  toward  Snet- 
kof  when  he  was  elected. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

On  this  day  the  newly  elected  marshal  of  the  govern- 
ment and  many  of  the  new  party  which  triumphed  with 
him  dined  with  Vronsky, 

The  count  came  to  the  elections  because  it  was  tire- 
some in  the  country  and  it  was  necessary  for  him  to 
assert  his  independence  before  Anna,  and  also  because 
he  wished  to  render  a  service  to  Sviazhsky  in  return  for 
similar  favors  shown  him  at  the  zemstvo  elections,  and 
last  and  principally  because  he  intended  strictly  to  fulfil 
the  duties  which  he  imposed  upon  himself  as  a  noble 
and  a  landowner. 

But  he  had  never  anticipated  the  intense  interest 
which  he  would  take  in  the  elections  or  the  success 
with  which  he  would  play  his  part.  He  was  a  perfectly 
"new  man"  among  the  nobles,  but  he  was  evidently 
successful,  and  he  was  not  mistaken  in  supposing  that 
he  already  inspired  confidence.  This  sudden  influ- 
ence was  due  to  his  wealth  and  distinction,  to  the  fine 
house  which  he  occupied  in  town,  —  a  house  which  an 
old  friend  of  his,  Shirkof,  a.  financier  and  the  director  of 
a  flourishing  bank  at  Kashin,  had  given  up  to  him,  — 
and  partly  to  an  excellent  cook  whom  he  brought  with 
him,  and  to  his  friendship  with  the  governor,  who  was 
his  ally  and  a  protecting  ally;  but  above  all  to  his  simple 
and  impartial  treatment  of  every  one,  so  that  the  majority 
of  the  nobles  quickly  changed  their  minds  in  regard  to 
the  reputation  he  had  acquired  of  being  proud.  He  him- 
self felt  that,  with  the  exception  of  this  silly  gentleman 
who  had  married  Kitty  Shcherbatsky,  and  who  a  propos 
de  bottes  had  been  disposed  foolishly  to  quarrel  with  him 


204  ANNA    KARENINA 

and  say  all  manner  of  foolish  things,  everybody  whom 
he  met  was  disposed  to  side  with  him.  He  clearly  saw, 
and  others  recognized  the  fact,  that  he  had  very  largely 
contributed  to  Nevyedovsky's  success.  And  now,  as  he 
sat  at  the  head  of  his  own  table  celebrating  Nevyedovsky's 
election,  ne  experienced  a  pleasant  feeling  of  triumphant 
pride  in  his  choice.  He  was  so  much  interested  in  the 
election  that  he  determined  that,  if  he  should  be  married 
at  the  end  of  the  next  three  years,  he  would  run  as  a 
candidate,  just  as  once  when,  after  having  won  a  prize 
by  means  of  his  jockey,  he  had  decided  to  run  a  race 
himself. 

Now  he  was  celebrating  the  triumph  of  his  jockey. 
Vronsky  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  but  he  placed  the 
young  governor  at  his  right.  Vronsky  saw  that  all  looked 
upon  him  as  the  khozyain  of  the  government,  who  had 
triumphantly  opened  the  elections,  who  had  gained  by 
his  speech  great  consideration  and  even  worship  ;  but 
for  Vronsky  he  was  nothing  more  than  Katka  Maslof, 
- —  such  was  his  nickname  at  the  Corps  of  Pages,  —  who 
used  to  be  confused  in  his  presence,  and  whom  he  tried 
to  put  at  his  ease. 

At  his  left  he  placed  Nevyedovsky,  a  young  man  with 
a  sarcastic  and  impenetrable  face.  Toward  him  Vronsky 
showed  respectful  consideration. 

Sviazhsky  accepted  his  own  failure  gayly  ;  indeed,  as 
he  said,  lifting  his  glass  to  Nevyedovsky,  he  could  not 
call  it  a  failure ;  it  would  be  impossible  to  find  a  better 
representative  of  the  new  tendencies  which  the  nobility 
was  to  follow.  And  therefore,  as  he  said,  everything 
that  was  honorable  stood  on  the  side  of  the  success  just 
won,  and  triumphed  with  it. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  also  was  gay,  because  he  was 
having  such  a  good  time  and  because  every  one  else 
was  so  happy. 

During  the  admirable  dinner  they  reviewed  the  various 
episodes  of  the  elections.  Sviazhsky  gave  a  comical 
travesty  of  the  former  marshal's  tearful  discourse,  and, 
turning  to  Nevyedovsky,  he  advised  his  excellency  to 
choose  a  more  complicated  manner  of  verifying  his  ac- 


I 


ANNA   KARENINA  205 

counts  than  by  tears.  Another  noble  with  a  turn  foi 
humor  related  how  lackeys  in  short  clothes  had  been 
ordered  for  the  former  marshal's  ball,  and  how  now 
these  lackeys  would  have  to  be  discharged  unless  the 
new  marshal  of  the  government  should  give  balls  with 
lackeys  in  short  clothes. 

During  all  the  time  of  the  dinner,  whenever  they 
addressed  Nevyedovsky  they  called  him  "  your  excel- 
lency," ^  and  all  spoke  of  him  as  "  our  government 
marshal."^  This  was  spoken  with  the  same  sort  of  satis- 
faction as  people  feel  when  they  address  a  newly  married 
woman  as  madame  and  add  her  husband's  name. 

Nevyedovsky  pretended  that  he  was  not  only  indiffer- 
ent, but  even  scorned  this  new  title,  but  it  was  evident 
that  he  was  happy  and  was  exercising  self-control  not  to 
betray  his  enthusiasm,  since  to  do  so  would  not  be  be- 
coming to  the  new  liberal  environment  in  which  they  all 
found  themselves. 

After  dinner  a  number  of  telegrams  were  sent  off  to 
people  who  were  interested  in  the  result  of  the  elections. 
And  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  who  felt  very  gay,  sent  Darya 
Aleksandrovna  a  despatch  thus  worded  :  — 

Nevyedovsky  elected  by  twenty  majority.  I  am  well. 
Regards  to  all. 

He  dictated  it  aloud,  and  added,  "  I  want  to  make 
them  feel  happy."  But  when  Darya  Aleksandrovna 
received  the  despatch,  she  only  sighed  for  the  ruble 
which  it  cost,  and  she  knew  well  that  it  was  sent  during 
a  dinner.  She  knew  that  Stiva  had  a  weakness  at  the 
end  of  dinnQxs  faire  jouer  le  telegrapJie. 

The  dinner  was  excellent,  and  the  wines  came  from 
no  Russian  dealer,  but  were  directly  imported  from 
abroad ;  and  everything  was  noble,  simple,  and  joyous. 
The  guests,  twenty  in  number,  were  selected  by  Sviazh- 
sky  from  among  the  new  liberal  workers,  and  they  were 
united  in  sentiments,  keen-witted,  and  thoroughly  well- 
bred.     They  drank  many  toasts,  accompanied  by  witt} 

^  Vashe  prevoskhodityehtvo. 
^  Nash  gubernsky  predvoditycl. 


2o6  ANNA    KARENINA 

speeches,  in  honor  of  the  new  marshal,  and  of  the  gov- 
ernor, and  of  the  director  of  the  bank,  and  of  "  our 
beloved  host." 

Vronsky  was  contented.  He  had  never  expected  to  find 
in  the  provinces  such  distinguished  society. 

Toward  the  end  of  dinner  the  gayety  redoubled,  and 
the  governor  asked  Vronsky  to  attend  a  concert  arranged 
for  the  benefit  of  our  brothers  by  his  wife,  who  wanted 
to  make  his  acquaintance. 

"  There  will  be  a  ball  afterward,  and  you  shall  see  our 
beauty.     In  fact,  she  is  remarkable." 

''Not  in  7tiy  line,''  answered  Vronsky  in  English; 
he   liked  the   phrase,  but  he  smiled  and  promised  to 

go. 

Just  before  they  left  the  table,  and  while  they  were 
lighting  their  cigars,  Vronsky's  valet  approached  him, 
bringing  a  note  on  a  tray. 

"  From  Vozdvizhenskoye,  by  a  special  messenger," 
said  the  man,  with  a  significant  expression. 

"It  is  remarkable  how  much  he  looks  like  the  colleague 
of  the  prokuror  Sventitsky,"  said  one  of  the  guests  in 
French,  referring  to  the  valet,  while  Vronsky,  with  a 
frown  on  his  brow,  was  reading  the  note. 

The  note  was  from  Anna,  and  Vronsky  knew,  before 
he  read  it  through,  what  was  in  it.  He  had  promised, 
as  the  elections  were  to  last  five  days,  to  return  on 
Friday;  but  it  was  now  Saturday,  and  he  knew  that  the 
letter  would  be  full  of  reproaches  because  he  had  not 
fulfilled  his  promise.  The  one  he  had  sent  off  the  after- 
noon before  had  evidently  not  been  received. 

The  tenor  of  the  note  was  what  he  expected ;  but  its 
form  was  a  great  surprise,  and  extremely  unpleasant  to 
him. 

Ani  is  very  sick,  and  the  doctor  says  it  may  be  pneumonia. 

I  shall  go  wild,  here  all  alone.  The  Princess  Varvara  is  only 
a  hinurance  mstead  of  a  help.  I  expected  you  day  before 
yesterday,  and  now  I  send  a  messenger  to  know  where  you  are 
and  what  you  are  doing.  1  wanted  to  come  myself,  but  hesi- 
tated, knowing  that  it  would  be  disagreeable  to  you.  Send  some 
answer,  that  I  may  know  what  to  do. 


ANNA   KARENINA  207 

The  child  was  ill,  and  she  had  wished  to  come  herself. 
A  sick  daughter,  and  this  hostile  tone ! 

Vronsky  was  impressed  by  the  antithesis  between  the 
jolly,  careless  company,  and  the  moody,  exacting  love  to 
which  he  was  obliged  to  return.  But  he  was  obliged  to 
go,  and  he  left  by  the  first  train  that  would  take  him 
home  that  night. 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

Before  Vronsky's  departure  for  the  election,  Anna, 
coming  to  the  conclusion  that  the  scenes  which  had 
always  taken  place  every  time  he  left  her  for  a  journey 
might  serve  to  cool  his  love  rather  than  attach  him 
more  firmly  to  her,  resolved  to  control  herself  to  the  best 
of  her  ability,  so  as  to  endure  calmly  the  separation  from 
him.  But  the  cold,  stern  look  which  he  had  given  her 
when  he  came  to  tell  her  about  his  journey  had  wounded 
her,  and  he  was  hardly  out  of  her  sight  before  her  reso- 
lution was  shaken. 

In  her  solitude,  as  she  began  to  think  over  his  cold 
look,  which  seemed  to  hint  at  a  desire  for  liberty,  she 
came  back,  as  she  always  did,  to  one  thing  —  to  the 
consciousness  of  her  humiliation. 

"  He  has  the  right  to  go  when  and  where  he  pleases. 
Not  only  to  go,  but  to  abandon  me.  He  has  all  the 
rights,  and  I  have  none !  But  as  he  knows  this,  he 
ought  not  to  have  done  this.  And  yet  what  has  he 
done  .''....  He  looked  at  me  wdth  a  hard,  stern  look.  Of 
course,  that  is  vague,  intangible.  Still,  he  did  not  for- 
merly look  at  me  so,  and  it  signifies  much,"  she  thought; 
"that  look  proves  that  he  is  growing  cold  toward  me." 

And,  although  she  was  persuaded  that  he  had  begun 
to  grow  cold  toward  her,  still  there  was  nothing  she 
could  do,  there  was  no  change  she  could  bring  about  in 
her  relations  toward  him.  Just  as  before,  she  could 
retain  his  affections  only  by  her  love,  by  her  fascination. 
And,  just  as  before,  the  only  way  she  could  keep  herself 
from  thinking  what  would  happen  if  he  should  abandon 


2o8  ANNA    KARENINA 

her,  she  busied  herself  incessantly  all  day ;  at  night  she 
took  morphine. 

To  be  sure,  there  was  one  means  left  —  not  to  keep 
him  with  her  —  for  this  she  wished  nothing  else  but  his 
love  —  but  to  bind  him  to  her,  to  be  in  such  a  relation 
to  him  that  he  would  not  abandon  her.  This  means  was 
divorce  and  marriage ;  and  she  began  to  desire  it,  and 
resoWed  that  she  would  agree  to  it  the  first  time  he  or 
Stiva  spoke  about  it  again.  With  such  thoughts  she 
spent  five  days  without  him,  the  five  days  he  expected 
to  be  away. 

Drives  and  walks,  conversations  with  the  Princess 
Varvara,  visits  to  the  hospital,  and,  above  all,  reading, 
the  reading  of  one  book  after  another,  occupied  her 
time.  But  on  the  sixth  day,  when  the  coachman  re- 
turned without  bringing  Vronsky,  she  felt  that  she  no 
longer  had  strength  enough  left  to  smother  the  thought 
about  him  and  what  he  was  doing  at  Kashin.  Just  at 
this  very  time  her  little  girl  was  taken  ill.  Anna  attended 
to  her,  but  it  did  not  divert  her  mind,  the  more  as  the 
little  one  was  not  dangerously  ill.  Do  the  best  she  could, 
she  did  not  love  this  child,  and  she  could  not  pretend  to 
feelings  which  had  no  existence. 

On  the  evening  of  the  sixth  day,  while  she  was  entirely 
alone,  she  felt  such  apprehension  about  him  that  she 
almost  made  up  her  mind  to  start  for  the  city  herself, 
but  after  a  long  deliberation,  she  wrote  the  prevaricating 
note  and  sent  it  by  a  special  messenger. 

When,  the  next  morning,  she  received  his  letter,  she 
regretted  hers.  With  horror  she  anticipated  the  repetition 
of  that  severe  look  which  he  would  give  her  on  his  return 
—  especially  when  he  learned  that  his  daughter  had  not 
been  dangerously  ill.  But  still  she  was  glad  she  had 
written  him.  Now  Anna  acknowledged  to  herself  that 
he  might  be  annoyed  by  her,  that  he  might  miss  his  liberty, 
but  yet  she  was  glad  that  he  was  coming ;  suppose  he 
was  annoyed  by  her,  still  he  would  be  there  with  her  so 
that  she  should  see  him,  so  that  she  should  be  aware  of 
his  every  motion. 

She  was  sitting  in  the  parlor,  by  the  lamp,  reading  a 


ANNA    KARENINA  209 

new  book  of  Taine's,  listening  to  the  sound  of  the  wind 
outside,  and  watching  every  moment  for  the  arrival  of 
the  carriage.  Several  times  she  thought  that  she  heard 
the  rumble  of  wheels,  but  she  was  deceived.  At  last 
she  distinctly  heard  not  only  the  wheels,  but  the  coach- 
man's voice,  and  the  carriage  rolling  under  the  covered 
porch. 

The  Princess  Varv^ara,  who  was  laying  out  a  game  of 
patience,  heard  it  too.  Anna's  face  flushed ;  she  rose, 
but,  instead  of  going  down,  as  she  had  twice  done  already, 
she  stopped.  She  was  suddenly  ashamed  at  her  decep- 
tion, and  still  more  alarmed  by  the  doubt  as  to  how  he 
would  receive  her.  All  her  irritation  had  vanished. 
All  she  feared  was  Vronsky's  displeasure.  She  remem- 
bered that  her  daughter  for  two  days  now  had  been 
perfectly  well.  She  was  annoyed  that  the  child  should 
recover  just  as  she  sent  off  the  letter. 

And  then  she  realized  that  he  was  there,  himself, 
with  his  eyes,  his  hands.  She  heard  his  voice,  joy 
filled  her  heart,  and,  forgetting  everything,  she  ran  to 
meet  him. 

"  How  is  Ani  ? "  he  asked  anxiously,  from  the  bottom 
of  the  stairs,  as  she  ran  swiftly  down. 

He  was  seated  in  a  chair,  and  his  lackey  was  pulling 
off  his  furred  boots. 

"All  right;  much  better." 

"  And  you  ? "  he  asked,  shaking  himself. 

She  seized  his  two  hands,  and  drew  him  toward  her, 
looking  into  his  eyes. 

"  Well,  I  am  very  glad,"  he  said,  coldly  surveying  her, 
her  head-dress,  her  whole  toilet,  which,  as  he  knew,  had 
been  put  on  expressly  for  him. 

All  this  pleased  him,  but  how  many  times  had  the 
same  thing  pleased  him !  and  that  stony,  severe  expres- 
sion, which  Anna  so  much  dreaded,  remained  on  his 
face. 

"  Well !  I  am  very  glad  ;  and  how  are  you  ? "  he 
asked,  kissing  her  hand,  after  he  had  wiped  his  damp 
mustache. 

"It  is  all  the  same  to  me,"  thought  Anna,   "if  only 

VOL.  III.  —  14 


2IO    •  ANNA    KARENINA 

he  is  here  ;  and  when  he  is  here  he  cannot  help  loving 
me ;  he  does  not  dare  not  to  love  me." 

The  evening  passed  pleasantly  and  merrily  in  the 
presence  of  the  Princess  Varvara,  who  complained  to 
him  that  when  he  was  away  Anna  took  morphine. 

"  What  can  I  do  .'^  I  cannot  sleep,  —  my  thoughts 
are  distracting ;  when  he  is  here,  I  never  take  it,  —  almost 
never." 

Vronsky  told  about  the  elections,  and  Anna,  by  her 
questions,  cleverly  led  him  to  talk  about  what  especially 
pleased  him,  his  own  success.  Then  she  told  him  all 
the  interesting  things  that  had  happened  since  he  went 
away,  and  took  care  to  speak  of  nothing  unpleasant. 

But  late  in  the  evening,  when  they  were  alone,  Anna, 
seeing  that  she  had  him  at  her  feet  again,  wished  to 
efface  the  unpleasant  effect  of  her  letter;  she  said:  — 

"  Confess  that  you  were  displeased  to  receive  my 
letter,  and  that  you  did  not  believe  me." 

As  soon  as  she  spoke  she  saw  that,  though  he  was 
affectionately  disposed  toward  her,  he  did  not  forgive 
this. 

"Yes,"  answered  he,  "your  letter  was  strange.  Ani 
was  sick,  and  yet  you  yourself  wanted  to  come." 

"  Both  were  true." 

"Well,  I  do  not  doubt  it." 

"Yes,  you  do  doubt.     I  see  that  you  are  angry." 

"  Not  for  one  minute ;  but  what  vexes  me  is  that  you 
will  not  admit  that  there  are  duties ...-." 

"  What  duties  .''     Going  to  concerts  ?  " 

"We  won't  talk  about  it." 

"  Why  not  talk  about  it .?  " 

"  I  only  mean  that  imperious  duties  may  meet  us. 
Now,  for   instance,  I   shall  have  to  go  to  Moscow  on 

business Akh  !  Anna,  why  are  you  so  irritable  .-*  Don't 

you  know  that  I  cannot  live  without  you  ?  " 

"  If  this  is  the  way,"  said  Anna,  changing  her  tone 

suddenly,  "  then  you  are  tired  of  this  kind  of  life Yes, 

you  come  home  one  day  and  go  away  the  next ...." 

"  Anna,  this  is  cruel ;  I  am  ready  to  give  up  my  whole 
life...." 


ANNA    KARENINA  211 

But  she  would  not  listen  to  him. 

"  If  you  are  going  to  Moscow,  I  shall  go  with  you ;  I 

will  not  stay  here  alone We  must  either  live  together 

or  separate." 

"  But  you  know  I  ask  nothing  more  than  to  live  with 
you,  but  for  that....  " 

"  The  divorce  is  necessary.     I  will  write  him.     I  see 

that  I  cannot  continue  to  live  in  this  way But  I  am 

going  with  you  to  Moscow." 

"  You  really  threaten  me ;  but  all  I  ask  in  the  world 
is  not  to  be  separated  from  you,"  said  Vronsky,  smiling. 

As  the  count  spoke  these  affectionate  words,  the  look 
in  his  eyes  was  not  only  icy,  but  wrathful,  Uke  that  of  a 
man  persecuted  and  exasperated. 

She  saw  his  look  and  accurately  read  its  meaning. 

"  If  this  is  so,  then  it  is  misfortune !  "  said  this  look. 
The  expression  was  only  momentary,  but  she  never  for- 
got it. 

Anna  wrote  to  her  husband,  begging  him  to  grant  the 
divorce,  and  toward  the  end  of  November,  after  separat- 
ing from  the  Princess  Varvara,  who  had  to  go  to  Peters- 
burg, she  went  to  Moscow  with  Vronsky.  Expecting 
every  day  to  get  AlekseT  Aleksandrovitch's  reply,  and 
immediately  afterward  to  secure  the  divorce,  they  set 
up  their  establishment  as  if  they  were  married. 


PART   SEVENTH 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  Levins  had  been  in  Moscow  for  two  months, 
and  the  time  fixed  by  competent  authorities  for 
Kitty's  deliverance  was  already  passed. 

But  she  was  still  waiting,  and  there  was  no  sign  that 
the  time  was  any  nearer  than  it  had  been  two  months 
before.  The  doctor  and  the  midwife  and  Dolly  and  her 
mother,  and  especially  Levin,  who  could  not  without  ter- 
ror think  of  the  approaching  event,  now  began  to  feel 
impatient  and  anxious.  Kitty  alone  kept  perfectly  calm 
and  happy.  She  now  clearly  recognized  in  her  heart 
the  birth  of  a  new  feeling  of  love  for  the  child  which 
already  partly  existed  for  her,  and  she  entertained  this 
feeling  with  joy.  The  child  was  no  longer  only  a  part 
of  her ;  even  now  it  already  lived  its  own  independent 
life  at  times.  This  caused  her  suffering ;  but  at  the 
same  time  she  felt  like  laughing,  with  a  strange,  un- 
known joy. 

All  whom  she  loved  were  with  her,  and  all  were  so 
good  to  her,  took  such  care  of  her,  and  tried  so  to  make 
everything  pleasant  for  her,  that,  if  she  had  not  known 
and  felt  that  the  end  must  soon  come,  this  would  have 
been  the  happiest  and  best  part  of  her  life.  Only  one 
thing  clouded  her  perfect  happiness,  and  this  was  that 
her  husband  was  different  from  the  Levin  she  loved  or 
the  Levin  that  lived  in  the  country. 

She  had  loved  his  calm,  gentle,  and  hospitable  ways 
in  the  country.  In  the  city  he  seemed  all  the  time  rest- 
less and  on  his  guard,  as  if  he  feared  that  some  one  was 
going  to  insult  him  or  her.  There  in  the  country  he 
was  usefully  occupied,  and  seemed  to  know  that  he  was 


ANNA    KARENINA  213 

in  his  place.  Here  in  the  city  he  was  constantly  on  the 
go,  as  if  he  were  afraid  of  forgetting  something ;  but  he 
had  nothing  really  to  do.     And  she  felt  sorry  for  him. 

But  she  knew  that  to  his  friends  he  was  not  an  object 
of  commiseration  ;  and  when  in  society  she  looked  at  him 
as  one  studies  those  who  are  beloved,  endeavoring  to  look 
on  him  as  a  stranger,  and  see  what  effect  he  produced  on 
others,  she  saw  with  anxiety  the  danger  that  she  herself 
might  become  jealous  of  him  for  the  reason  that  he  was 
not  at  all  pitiable,  but  was  rather  an  exceedingly  attrac- 
tive man  by  reason  of  his  dignified,  rather  old-fashioned, 
shy  politeness  to  ladies,  his  strong  physique,  and  his  very 
expressive  face.  But  she  read  his  inner  nature.  She 
saw  that  he  was  not  himself,  otherwise  she  could  not 
define  his  actions.  But  sometimes  in  her  heart  she  re- 
proached him  because  he  could  not  adapt  him.self  to  city 
life.  Sometimes  even  she  confessed  that  it  was  really 
difficult  for  him  to  conduct  his  life  so  as  to  please  her. 

But,  indeed,  what  could  he  find  to  do  ?  He  was  not 
fond  of  cards.  He  did  not  go  to  the  clubs.  She  now  knew 
what  it  meant  to  frequent  the  company  of  high  livers, 

like  Oblonsky It  meant  to  drink  and  to  go  to  places  — 

she  could  not  think  without  horror  of  where  these  men 
were  in  the  habit  of  going.  Should  he  go  into  society  .' 
She  knew  that  to  enjoy  that  it  would  be  necessary  to 
find  pleasure  in  the  company  of  young  ladies,  and  she 
could  not  desire  that.  Then,  should  he  sit  at  home  with 
her,  with  her  mother,  and  her  sister }  But  however 
pleasant  these  conversations  might  be  to  her,  she  knew 
that  they  must  be  wearisome  to  him.  What,  then,  re- 
mained for  him  to  do  .''  Was  he  to  go  on  with  his  book  ? 
He  intended  to  do  this,  and  began  to  make  researches 
in  the  public  library ;  but,  as  he  confessed  to  Kitty,  the 
more  he  had  nothing  to  do,  the  less  time  he  had.  More- 
over, he  complained  to  her  that  too  much  was  said  about 
his  book,  and  that  therefore  his  ideas  were  thrown  into 
confusion  and  that  his  interest  in  his  work  was  fiasfsfins" 

One  result  of  their  Hfe  in  Moscow  was  that  there 
were  no  more  quarrels  between  them,  either  because  city 
conditions  were  different,  or  because  both  were  bep^innins 


214  ANNA    KARENINA 

to  be  more  guarded  and  prudent ;  the  fact  remained 
that,  since  they  left  the  country,  the  scenes  of  jealousy 
which  they  feared  might  again  arise  were  not  repeated. 

In  these  circumstances  one  very  important  affair  for 
them  both  took  place :  Kitty  had  a  meeting  with 
Vronsky. 

Kitty's  godmother,  the  old  Princess  Marya  Borisovna, 
was  always  very  fond  of  her,  and  wanted  to  see  her. 
Kitty,  though  owing  to  her  condition  she  was  not  going 
out  now,  went  with  her  father  to  see  the  stately  old 
princess  ;  and  there  she  met  Vronsky.  At  this  meeting 
Kitty  could  reproach  herself  only  for  the  fact  that  for 
the  moment  when  she  first  saw  the  features,  once  so 
familiar,  she  felt  her  heart  beat  fast,  and  her  face 
redden ;  but  her  emotion  lasted  only  a  few  seconds. 
The  old  prince  hastened  to  begin  an  animated  conver- 
sation with  Vronsky ;  and  by  the  time  he  had  finished 
Kitty  was  ready  to  look  at  Vronsky,  or  to  talk  with  him 
if  need  be,  just  as  she  was  talking  with  the  princess, 
and,  what  was  more,  without  a  smile  or  an  intonation 
which  would  have  been  disagreeable  to  her  husband, 
whose  invisible  presence,  as  it  were,  she  felt  near  her  at 
the  moment. 

She  exchanged  some  words  with  Vronsky,  smiled 
serenely  when  he  jestingly  called  the  assembly  at 
Kashin  "our  parliament,"  —  she  had  to  smile  so  as  to 
show  that  she  understood  the  jest.  Then  she  addressed 
herself  to  the  old  princess,  and  did  not  turn  her  head 
until  Vronsky  rose  to  take  leave.  Then  she  looked  at 
him,  but  evidently  it  was  only  because  it  is  impolite  not 
to  look  at  a  man  when  he  bows. 

She  was  grateful  to  her  father  because  he  said  noth- 
ing about  this  meeting  with  Vronsky ;  but  Kitty  under- 
stood from  his  especial  tenderness  after  their  visit,  during 
their  usual  walk,  that  he  was  satisfied  with  her.  She 
felt  satisfied  with  herself.  She  had  never  anticipated 
that  she  should  have  the  strength  of  mind  to  remember 
all  the  details  of  her  former  feelings  toward  Vronsky, 
and  yet  to  seem  and  to  feel  perfectly  indifferent  and 
calm  in  his  presence. 


ANNA    KARENINA  215 

Levin  turned  far  more  crimson  than  she  did,  when 
she  told  him  about  her  meeting  with  Vronsky  at  the 
house  of  the  Princess  Marya  Borisovna.  It  was  very 
hard  for  her  to  tell  him  about  it,  and  still  harder  to  go 
on  relating  the  details  of  the  meeting,  for  the  reason 
that  he  did  not  ask  her  a  question,  but  only  gazed  at  her 
and  frowned. 

"  It  was  such  a  pity  that  you  weren't  there,"  she  said 
to  her  husband,  —  "  not  in  the  room,  for  before  you  I 
should  not  have  been  so  self-possessed.  I  'm  blushing 
now  ever  and  ever  so  much  more  than  I  did  then,"  said 
she,  blushing  till  the  tears  came,  —  "but  if  you  could 
have  looked  through  the  keyhole." 

Her  sincere  eyes  told  Levin  that  she  was  satisfied" 
with  her  behavior,  and,  though  she  blushed,  he  immedi- 
ately became  calm ;  he  asked  her  some  questions,  just 
as  she  wished  him  to  do.  When  he  had  heard  the 
whole  story,  even  to  the  detail  that  she  could  not  help 
blushing  for  the  first  second,  and  afterward  was  per- 
fectly at  her  ease  as  if  she  had  never  met  him  before. 
Levin  grew  extraordinarily  gay,  and  declared  that  he 
was  very  glad  of  it,  and  that  in  future  he  should  not 
behave  so  foolishly  as  he  had  done  at  the  elections, 
but  that  when  he  met  Vronsky  again  he  should  be  as 
friendly  as  possible. 

"  It  is  so  painful  to  look  on  him  almost  as  an  enemy, 
whom  it  is  hard  to  meet.     I  am  very,  very  glad." 


CHAPTER   II 

"  Please  don't  forget  to  call  at  the  Bohls',"  said 
Kitty,  as  her  husband  came  to  her  room,  about  eleven 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  before  going  out.  "  I  know  that 
you  are  going  to  dine  at  the  club,  because  papa  wrote 
you.     But  what  are  you  going  to  do  this  morning  ? " 

"  I  'm  only  going  to  Katavasof's." 

"  Why  are  you  going  so  early  ?  " 

"  He  promised  to  introduce  me  to  Metrof.     He  "s  a 


2i6  ANNA    KARENINA 

famous  scholar  from  Petersburg.     I  want  to  talk  over 
my  book  with  him." 

"Oh,  yes;  wasn't  it  his  article  you  were  praising? 
Well,  and  after  that  ?  " 

"  Possibly  to  the  tribunal,  about  that  affair  of  my 
sister's." 

"Are  n't  you  going  to  the  concert  .■*  "  she  asked. 

"  No  ;  why  should  I  go  all  alone  ?  "  • 

"  Do  go.     They  're  going  to  give  those  new  pieces. ...*= 
it  will  interest  you.     I  should  certainly  go." 

"  Well,  at  all  events,  I  shall  come  home  before  din- 
ner," said  he,  looking  at  his  watch. 

"  Put  on  your  best  coat,  so  as  to  go  to  the  Countess 
Bohl's." 

"  Why,  is  that  really  necessary  }  " 

"  Akh !  certainly.  The  count  himself  came  here. 
Now,  what  does  it  cost  you  ?  You  go,  you  sit  down, 
you  talk  five  minutes  about  the  weather,  then  you  get 
up  and  go." 

"  Well,  you  don't  realize  that  I  am  so  out  of  practice, 
that  I  feel  abashed.  How  absurd  it  is  for  a  strange 
man  to  come  to  a  house,  to  sit  down,  to  stay  a  little 
while  without  any  business,  to  find  himself  in  the  way, 
feel  awkward,  and  then  go." 

Kitty  laughed. 

"  Yes ;  but  did  n't  you  use  to  make  calls  before  you 
were  married .'' " 

"Yes,  but  I  was  always  bashful,"  said  he;  "and  now 
I  am  so  out  of  the  way  of  it,  that,  by  Heavens,^  I  would 
rather  not  have  any  dinner  for  two  days  than  make  this 
call.  I  am  so  bashful.  It  seems  to  me  as  if  they  must 
take  offense,  and  say,  '  Why  do  you  come  without 
business .'' '  " 

"  No,  they  don't  take  offense.  I  will  answer  that  for 
you,"  said  Kitty,  looking  brightly  into  his  face.  She 
took  his  hand.     "  Now,  prashchai !  — please  go  !  " 

He  kissed  his  wife's  hand,  and  was  about  to  go,  when 
she  stopped  him. 

"  Kostia,  do  you  know  I  have  only  fifty  rubles  left  ? " 

1  y/i  Bogu. 


ANNA    KARENINA  217 

"Well,  I  will  go  and  get  some  from  the  bank.  How 
much  do  you  want  ? "  said  he,  with  his  well-known  ex- 
pression of  vexation. 

"  No,  wait!  "  She  detained  him  by  the  arm.  "Let  us 
talk  about  this  a  moment ;  this  troubles  me.  I  try  not 
to  buy  anything  unnecessary ;  still,  the  money  runs 
away.     We  must  retrench  somehow  or  other." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Levin,  with  a  little  cough,  and 
looking  askance  upon  her. 

She  knew  this  cough.  It  was  a  sign  of  strong  vexa- 
tion, not  with  her,  but  with  himself.  He  was  actually 
discontented,  not  because  much  money  was  spent,  but 
because  he  was  reminded  of  what  he  wanted  to  forget. 

"  I  have  ordered  Sokolof  to  sell  the  corn,  and  to  get 
the  rent  of  the  mill  in  advance.  We  shall  have  money 
enough." 

"  No  ;  but  I  fear  that,  as  a  general  thing  ....  " 

"Not  at  all,  not  at  all,"  he  repeated.  "Well,  good- 
by,  darling."  ^ 

"  Sometimes  I  wish  I  had  n't  Hstened  to  mamma. 
How  happy  we  were  in  the  country  !  I  tire  you  all, 
waiting  for  me ;  and  the  money  we  spend  ....  " 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all !  Not  one  single  time  since  we 
were  married  till  now  have  I  thought  that  things  would 
have  been  better  than  they  are." 

"  Truly  .^"  said  she,  looking  into  his  face. 

He  said  that,  thinking  only  to  comfort  her.  But  when 
he  saw  her  gentle,  honest  eyes  turned  to  him  with  an 
inquiring  look,  he  repeated  what  he  had  said  with  his 
whole  heart ;  and  he  remembered  what  was  coming  to 
them  so  soon. 

"  How  do  you  feel  this  morning  ?  Do  you  think  it 
will  be  soon  ? "  he  asked,  taking  both  her  hands  in  his. 

"  I  sometimes  think  that  I  don't  think  and  don't  know 
anything." 

"And  don't  you  feel  afraid.-'" 

She  smiled  disdainfully  :  — 

"Not  tfie  least  bit.  No,  nothing  will  happen  to-day; 
don't  worry." 

^  Nil  prashcha'i,  dushcnka;  literally,  Now,  farewell,  adieu,  little  soul. 


2t8  anna    KARENINA 

"  If  that  is  so,  then  I  am  going  to  Katavasof's." 
"  I  am  going  with  papa  to  take  a  little  walk  on  the 
boulevard.  We  are  going  to  see  Dolly.  I  shall  expect 
you  back  before  dinner.  Oh,  there !  Do  you  know, 
Dolly's  position  is  getting  to  be  entirely  unendurable  ? 
She  is  in  debt  on  every  side,  and  has  n't  any  money  at 
all.  We  talked  about  it  yesterday  with  mamma  and 
Arseny,"  —  this  was  her  sister  Natali  Lvova's  husband, 

—  "and  they  decided  that  you  should  scold  Stiva.  It  is 
truly  unendurable.  It  is  impossible  for  papa  to  speak 
about  it ;  but  if  you  and  he  ....  " 

"Well,  what  can  we  do .-' "  asked  Levin. 

"  You  had  better  go  to  Arseny's,  and  talk  with  him  ; 
he  will  tell  you  what  we  decided  about  it." 

"  All  right !  I  will  follow  Arseny's  advice.  Then,  I 
will  go  directly  to  his  house.  By  the  way,  if  he  is  at  the 
concert,  then  I  will  go  with  Natali.     So  good-by." 

On  the  staircase,  the  old  bachelor  servant,  Kuzma, 
who  acted  in  the  city  as  steward,  stopped  his  mas- 
ter. 

"  Krasavtchika'  has  just  been  shod,  and  it  lamed  her," 

—  this  was  Levin's  left  pole-horse,  which  he  had  brought 
from  the  country  ;  — "  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  said  he. 

When  Levin  established  himself  in  Moscow,  he  brought 
his  horses  from  the  country.  He  wished  to  set  up  as 
good  a  stable  as  possible,  but  not  to  have  it  cost  too 
much.  It  seemed  to  him  now  that  hired  horses  would 
have  been  less  expensive ;  and  even  as  it  was,  he  was 
often  obhged  to  hire  of  the  izvoshchik. 

"  Take  her  to  the  veterinary ;  perhaps  she  is  going 
to  have  a  swimmer." 

"  Well,  how  shall  you  arrange  for  Katerina  Aleksan- 
drovna  .-•  "  asked  Kuzma. 

Levin  was  now  no  longer  troubled  as  he  had  been  at 
first,  when  he  first  came  to  Moscow,  that  for  the  drive 
from  Vozdvizhenko  to  Svintsef  Vrazhek  it  was  necessary 
to  have  a  span  of  heavy  horses  harnessed  into  his  heavy 
carriage  and  drive  in  it  four  versts  through  mealy  snow, 
and  keep  them  waiting  four  hours  there,  and  have  to  pay 

^  Little  Beauty. 


ANNA    KARENINA  219 

five  rubles  for  it.  Now  it  seemed  to  him  the  natural 
thing  to  do. 

"Get  a  pair  of  horses  from  the  izvoshchik,  and  put 
them  into  our  carriage." 

"I  will  obey." 

And  having  thus  decided  simply  and  quickly,  thanks 
to  his  training  in  city  ways,  a  labor  which  in  the  coun- 
try would  have  cost  him  much  trouble  and  attention. 
Levin  went  out  on  the  porch,  and,  beckoning  to  an  izvosh- 
chik, took  his  seat  in  the  cab,  and  rode  off  to  the 
Nikitskaya  Street. 

On  the  way  the  question  of  money  did  not  occupy 
him,  but  he  thought  over  how  he  was  about  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  the  sociological  savant  from  Peters- 
burg, and  what  he  should  say  to  him  in  regard  to  his 
treatise. 

It  was  only  during  the  first  part  of  his  stay  in  Mos- 
cow that  Levin,  who  had  been  used  to  the  productive 
ways  of  the  country,  was  amazed  at  the  strange  and 
unavoidable  expenses  which  met  him  on  every  side. 
But  now  he  was  wonted  to  them.  He  had  somewhat  the 
same  experience  as  he  had  been  told  drunken  men  went 
through  :  each  successive  glass  made  him  more  reckless.^ 

When  Levin  took  the  first  hundred-ruble  note  for  the 
purchase  of  liveries  for  the  lackey  and  Swiss,  he  could 
not  avoid  the  consideration  that  these  liveries  were 
wholly  useless  to  any  one ;  and  yet  they  seemed  to  be 
unavoidable  and  indispensable,  judging  from  the  amaze- 
ment of  Kitty  and  her  mother,  when  he  made  the  re- 
mark that  they  might  go  without  them  —  and  he  put  it 
to  himself  that  these  liveries  represented  the  wages  of 
two  laborers  for  a  year,  that  is  to  say,  about  three 
hundred  working  days  from  early  in  the  morning  till 
late  at  night ;  so  that  the  first  hundred-ruble  note  corre- 
sponded to  the  first  glass.^ 

But  the  second  bill  of  twenty-eight  rubles,  expended 
for  the  purchase  of  provisions  for  a  family  dinner,  cost 

1  An  untranslatable  Russian  proverb :  Piervaya  riitmka  —  kolom ; 
vtoraya  sokoloni,  a  posle  tretyc  —  mielkimi  ptashetchkarni. 

2  The  kolom,  or  stake,  of  the  proverb. 


220  ANNA    KARENINA 

him  less  trouble,  though  he  still  mentally  computed  that 
this  money  represented  nine  chetverts,  or  more  than 
fifty  bushels,  of  oats  which  these  same  workmen,  at  the 
cost  of  many  groans,  had  mowed,  bound  into  sheaves, 
threshed,  winnowed,  gathered  up,  and  put  into  bags. 

And  now  the  money  spent  in  this  way  had  long  ceased 
to  evoke  any  such  considerations,  but  they  flew  around 
him  Hke  little  birds.  He  had  long  ceased  to  ask  him- 
self whether  the  pleasure  purchased  by  his  money  was 
anywhere  near  commensurate  with  the  labor  spent  in 
acquiring  it.  He  also  forgot  the  common  principle  of 
economics,  that  there  is  a  certain  price  below  which  it  is 
impossible  to  sell  grain  except  at  a  loss.  His  rye,  the 
price  of  which  he  had  kept  up  so  long,  had  to  be  sold 
at  ten  kopeks  a  bushel  cheaper  than  he  had  sold  it  a 
month  earlier.  Even  the  calculation  that  if  he  kept  on 
at  his  present  rate  of  expenditure  it  would  be  impossible 
to  get  through  the  year  without  getting  into  debt,  did 
not  cause  him  any  anxiety. 

Only  one  thing  troubled  him  :  the  keeping  up  his 
bank  account,  without  asking  how,  so  that  there  might 
be  always  enough  for  the  daily  needs  of  the  household. 
And  up  to  the  present  time  he  had  succeeded  in  doing 
this.  But  now  his  deposit  at  the  bank  had  run  low,  and 
he  did  not  know  exactly  how  to  restore  it.  And  this 
problem  was  causing  him  some  anxiety  just  at  the  time 
when  Kitty  asked  him  for  some  more  money.  But  he 
did  not  want  to  bother  about  that  just  now.  So  he 
drove  away,  thinking  of  Katavasof  and  his  approaching 
acquaintance  with  Metrof. 


CHAPTER   HI 

During  his  present  stay  in  Moscow  Levin  had  once 
more  come  into  intimate  relationship  with  his  old  uni- 
versity friend.  Professor  Katavasof,  whom  he  had  not 
seen  since  the  time  of  his  marriage.  Katavasof  was 
agreeable  to  him  because  of  the  clearness  and  simplicity 
of  his  philosophy.     Levin  thought  that  the  clearness  of 


ANNA    KARENINA  221 

his  philosophy  arose  from  the  poverty  of  his  nature, 
while  Katavasof  thought  that  the  incoherence  of  Le- 
vin's ideas  arose  from  a  lack  of  mental  discipline.  But 
Katavasof 's  lucidity  was  agreeable  to  Levin,  and  Levin's 
fecundity  of  undisciplined  ideas  was  agreeable  to  Kata- 
vasof, and  they  both  liked  to  meet  and  discuss  together. 

Levin  had  read  several  passages  from  his  treatise  to 
Katavasof,  who  had  liked  them.  The  evening  before 
Katavasof,  happening  to  meet  Levin  at  a  public  lecture, 
told  him  that  the  celebrated  scholar,  Professor  Metrof, 
whose  article  had  pleased  Levin,  was  in  Moscow,  and 
was  greatly  interested  in  what  he  had  heard  of  Levin's 
work.  He  was  to  be  at  Katavasof's  house  the  next  day 
at  eleven  o'clock,  and  would  be  delighted  to  make  Le- 
vin's acquaintance. 

"  Delighted  to  see  you,  batyushka,"  said  Katavasof, 
receiving  Levin  in  his  reception-room.     "  I   heard   the 

bell,  and  wondered  if  it  could  be  time And  now  what 

do  you  think  of  the  Montenegrins  ?  It  looks  to  me  like 
war." 

"What  makes  you  think  so  ?  "  asked  Levin. 

Katavasof  in  a  few  words  told  him  the  latest  news,  and 
then,  taking  him  into  his  library,  introduced  him  to  a 
short,  thick-set,  and  very  pleasant-looking  man  :  it  was 
Metrof.  The  conversation  for  a  short  time  turned  on 
politics,  and  on  the  views  held  by  the  high  authorities 
in  Petersburg  in  regard  to  the  recent  elections.  Metrof, 
in  regard  to  this,  quoted  some  significant  words  spoken 
by  the  emperor  and  one  of  the  ministers,  which  he  had 
heard  from  a  reliable  source.  Katavasof  had  heard  from 
an  equally  reliable  source  that  the  emperor  had  said  some- 
thing quite  different.  Levin  tried  to  imagine  to  himself 
the  conditions  in  which  the  words  in  either  case  might 
have  been  said,  and  the  conversation  on  this  theme  came 
to  an  end. 

"  Well !  here  is  the  gentleman  who  is  writing  a  book 
on  the  natural  condition  of  the  laborer  in  relation  to  the 
soil,"  said  Katavasof.  "  I  am  not  a  specialist,  but  it 
pleases  me  as  a  naturalist  that  he  does  not  consider  the 
human  race  outside  of  zoological  laws,  but  recognizes 


222  ANNA    KARENINA 

man's  dependence  on  his  environment,  and  seeks  to  find 
in  this  dependence  the  laws  of  his  development." 

"That's  very  interesting,"  said  Metrof. 

"  I  began  simply  to  write  a  book  on  rural  economy,"  ^ 
said  Levin,  reddening;  "but  in  studying  the  principal 
instrument,  the  laborer,  I  arrived  at  a  decidedly  unex- 
pected conclusion,  in  spite  of  myself." 

And  Levin  expatiated  on  his  ideas,  trying  the  ground 
carefully  as  he  did  so,  for  he  knew  that  Metrof  had 
written  an  article  against  the  current  views  on  political 
economy  ;  and  how  far  he  could  hope  for  sympathy  in 
his  new  views,  he  did  not  know,  and  could  not  tell  from 
the  scholar's  calm,  intellectual  face. 

"  How,  in  your  opinion,  does  the  Russian  laborer 
differ  from  that  of  other  peoples  ?  "  asked  Metrof.  "  Is 
it  from  the  point  of  view  which  you  call  zoological .''  or 
from  that  of  the  material  conditions  in  which  he  finds 
himself  ?" 

This  way  of  putting  the  question  proved  to  Levin  how 
widely  their  opinions  diverged ;  nevertheless,  he  con- 
tinued to  set  forth  his  theory,  which  was  based  on  the 
idea  that  the  Russian  people  could  not  have  the  same 
relation  to  the  soil  as  the  other  European  nations ;  and 
to  prove  this  position,  he  hastened  to  add  that,  in  his 
opinion,  the  Russian  people  feels  instinctively  predes- 
tined to  populate  the  immense  uncultivated  tracts  stretch- 
ing toward  the  East. 

"  It  is  easy  to  be  mistaken  about  the  general  destiny 
of  a  people,  by  forming  premature  conclusions,"  said 
Metrof,  interrupting  Levin ;  "  and  the  situation  of  the 
laborer  will  always  depend  on  his  relation  to  land  and 
capital." 

And,  without  giving  Levin  time  to  reply,  he  began 
to  explain  the  peculiarity  of  his  own  views.  Levin  did 
not  understand,  because  he  did  not  try  to  understand, 
in  what  consisted  the  peculiarity  of  his  views ;  he  saw 
that  Metrof,  like  all  the  rest,  notwithstanding  his  article, 
in  which  he  refuted  the  teachings  of  the  economists, 
looked  on  the  condition  of  the  Russian  people  from  the 

^  Sehkoye  k/wzyaisivo. 


ANNA    KARENINA  223 

standpoint  of  capital,  wages,  and  rent,  though  he  was 
obliged  to  confess  that  for  the  eastern  and  by  far  the 
greater  part  of  Russia,  there  was  no  such  thing  as  rent ; 
that  for  nine-tenths  of  Russia's  eighty  millions,  wages 
consisted  in  a  bare  subsistence,  and  the  capital  did  not 
yet  exist,  except  as  it  was  represented  by  the  most  primi- 
tive tools.  Although  Metrof  differed  from  other  political 
economists,  in  many  ways  he  regarded  the  laborer  from 
this  point  of  view,  and  he  had  a  new  theory  as  to  wages, 
which  he  demonstrated  at  length. 

Levin  listened  with  some  disgust,  and  tried  to  reply. 
He  wanted  to  interrupt  Metrof,  in  order  to  express  his 
own  opinions,  which  he  felt  deserved  to  be  heard  at  far 
greater  length.  But,  finally  recognizing  that  they  looked 
on  the  subject  from  such  a  radically  opposite  standpoint 
that  they  could  never  understand  each  other,  he  no 
longer  tried  to  refute  him,  he  let  Metrof  talk,  and  only 
listened.  Though  he  was  not  at  all  interested  in  what 
he  said,  nevertheless  he  experienced  a  certain  pleasure  in 
listening  to  him.  He  was  flattered  that  such  a  learned 
man  would  condescend  to  give  him  the  benefit  of  his 
thoughts,  sometimes  by  a  hint  pointing  to  a  complete 
phase  of  the  subject,  and  showing  him  so  much  defer- 
ence as  to  one  thoroughly  versed  in  the  subject.  He 
ascribed  this  to  his  own  merits ;  he  did  not  know  that 
Metrof,  having  talked  this  over  with  all  his  own  intimates 
on  this  subject,  was  glad  to  have  a  new  auditor ;  and, 
moreover,  that  he  liked  to  talk  with  any  one  on  the  sub- 
jects that  occupied  him,  so  as  to  elucidate  certain  points 
for  his  own  benefit. 

"  We  shall  be  late,"  remarked  Katavasof,  consulting 
his  watch  as  soon  as  Metrof  had  concluded  his  argu- 
ment. "  Yes  !  there  is  a  special  session  to-day  of  the 
'  Society  of  Friends '  ^  in  honor  of  the  semi-centennial  of 
Svintitch,"  he  added,  in  reply  to  Levin's  question. 
"  We  meet  at  the  house  of  Piotr  Ivanuitch  ;  I  promised 
to  speak  on  his  work  in  zoology.  Come  with  us  ;  it  will 
be  interesting." 

"  Yes,  it  is  high  time,"  said  Metrof.     "  Come  with  us, 

*  Obshchestvo  Liubitelye. 


224  ANNA    KARENINA 

and  then  afterward,  if  you  like,  come  home  with  me. 
I  should  greatly  like  to  hear  your  work." 

"  It  is  only  a  sketch,  not  worth  much ;  but  I  should 
like  to  go  with  you  to  the  session." 

"  What  is  that,  batyushka  ?  Have  you  heard  .-'  He 
gave  a  special  opinion,"  said  Katavasof,  who  was  putting 
on  his  dress-coat  in  the  next  room. 

And  the  talk  turned  on  the  university  question. 

The  university  question  was  a  very  important  topic 
this  winter  in  Moscow.  Three  old  professors  in  the 
council  would  not  accept  the  opinion  of  the  younger 
ones  ;  the  younger  ones  expressed  a  special  opinion. 
This  opinion,  according  to  some,  was  dreadful,  accord- 
ing to  others  was  the  simplest  and  most  righteous  of 
opinions,  and  the  professors  were  divided  into  two 
parties. 

The  one  to  which  Katavasof  belonged  saw  in  the 
opposition  dastardly  violation  of  faith,  and  deception ; 
the  other  side  charged  their  opponents  with  childishness 
and  lack  of  confidence  in  the  authorities. 

Levin,  although  he  was  not  connected  with  the  uni- 
versity, had  heard  and  talked  much  during  his  stay  in 
Moscow  regarding  this  affair,  and  had  his  own  opinion 
regarding  it.  So  he  took  part  in  the  conversation,  which 
was  continued  even  after  they  had  got  out  into  the 
street,  and  until  they  had  all  three  reached  the  buildings 
of  the  old  university. 

The  session  had  already  begun.  Six  men  were  sitting 
around  a  table  covered  with  a  cloth  ;  and  one  of  them, 
nearly  doubled  up  over  a  manuscript,  was  reading  some- 
thing. Katavasof  and  Metrof  took  their  places  at  the 
table.  Levin  sat  down  in  an  unoccupied  chair  near  a  stu- 
dent, and  asked  him  in  a  low  voice  what  they  were  read- 
ing.    The  student,  looking  angrily  at  Levin,  replied :  — 

"  The  biography." 

Levin  did  not  care  much  for  the  savant's  biography, 
still  he  could  not  help  listening,  and  he  learned  various 
interesting  particulars  of  the  life  of  the  celebrated  man. 

When  the  reader  came  to  an  end,  the  chairman  con- 
gratulated him,  and  then  read  some  verses  which  had 


ANNA    KARENINA  225 

been  sent  to  him  in  honor  of  the  occasion  by  the  poet 
Mient,  of  whose  work  he  spoke  eulogistically.  Then 
Katavasof  read  in  his  loud,  harsh  voice  a  sketch  of  the 
work  of  Svintitch.  When  Katavasof  had  finished,  Levin 
looked  at  his  watch  and  found  that  it  was  already  two 
o'clock ;  he  realized  that  he  should  lose  the  concert  if 
he  should  read  his  treatise  to  Metrof,  and,  moreover,  he 
no  longer  cared  to  do  it. 

During  the  reading  of  the  papers  he  had  come  to  a 
conclusion  regarding  the  conversation  he  had  just  had. 
It  was  clear  to  his  own  mind  that,  though  Metrof 's  ideas 
very  likely  had  some  value,  yet  his  own  ideas  also  had 
value,  and  that  ideas  could  be  made  clear  and  profitable 
only  when  every  person  should  work  separately  in  his 
chosen  path,  but  that  the  communication  of  these  ideas 
was  perfectly  profitless. 

And,  having  decided  to  decline  Metrof's  invitation, 
Levin  at  the  end  of  the  session  went  up  to  him.  Metrof 
introduced  Levin  to  the  chairman,  with  whom  he  was 
talking  about  the  political  news.  Thereupon  Metrof 
told  the  chairman  what  he  had  already  told  Levin,  and 
Levin  made  the  same  remarks  as  he  had  made  that  morn- 
ing, but  for  the  sake  of  variety  he  also  told  his  new  theory 
which  had  just  come  into  his  mind.  After  this  the  con- 
versation again  turned  on  the  university  question.  As 
Levin  had  already  heard  as  much  as  he  cared  to  about 
this,  he  made  haste  to  tell  Metrof  that  he  regretted  that 
he  could  not  accept  his  invitation,  bade  him  good-by, 
and  hastened  to  Lvof's. 


CHAPTER    IV 

LvoF,  who  had  married  Natalie,  Kitty's  sister,  had 
spent  his  life  in  the  European  capitals,  where  he  had  not 
only  received  his  education,  but  had  also  pursued  his  dip- 
lomatic career. 

The  year  before  he  had  resigned  his  diplomatic  ap- 
pointment, not  because  it  was  distasteful  to  him,  —  for 
he  never  found  anything  distasteful  to  him,  —  and  had 

VOL.  111. —  15 


226  ANNA    KARENINA 

accepted  a  position  in  the  department  of  the  palace  in 
Moscow,  so  that  he  might  be  able  to  give  a  better  educa- 
tion to  his  two  sons. 

In  spite  of  very  different  opinions  and  habits,  and  the 
fact  that  Lvof  was  considerably  older  than  Levin,  they 
had  seen  much  of  each  other  this  autumn,  and  had  be- 
come great  friends. 

Levin  found  his  brother-in-law  at  home,  and  went  in 
without  ceremony. 

Lvof,  in  a  house-coat  with  a  belt,  and  in  chamois-skin 
slippers,  was  sitting  in  an  arm-chair,  and  with  blue  glasses 
was  reading  a  book  which  rested  on  a.  stand,  while  he 
held  a  half-burned  cigar  in  his  shapely  hand.  His  hand- 
some, delicate,  and  still  youthful  face,  to  which  his  shin- 
ing, silvery  hair  gave  an  expression  of  aristocratic  dignity, 
lighted  up  with  a  smile  as  he  saw  Levin. 

"  Good !  I  was  just  going  to  send  to  find  out  about 
you  all.  How  is  Kitty  ?  "  said  he  ;  and,  rising,  he  pushed 
forward  a  rocking-chair.  "  Sit  down  here  :  you  '11  find 
this  better.  Have  you  read  the  last  circular  in  they6»//;'- 
>uil de  St.  Petersboiirgf  I  find  it  excellent,"  said  he,  with 
*  a  slight  French  accent. 

Levin  informed  him  of  what  he  had  heard  as  to  the 
reports  in  circulation  at  Petersburg ;  and,  after  having 
spoken  of  politics,  he  told  about  his  acquaintance  with 
Metrof  and  the  session  at  the  university.  This  greatly 
interested  Lvof. 

"  There !  I  envy  you  your  intimacy  in  that  learned 
society,"  said  he,  and  he  went  on  speaking,  not  in  Rus- 
sian, but  in  French,  which  was  far  more  familiar  to  him. 
"  True,  I  could  not  meet  them  very  well.  My  public 
duties,  and  my  occupation  with  the  children,  would  pre- 
vent it ;  and  then,  I  do  not  feel  ashamed  to  say  that  my 
own  education  is  too  faulty." 

"  I  can't  think  that,"  said  Levin,  with  a  smile,  and,  as 
always,  touched  by  his  modest  opinion  of  himself,  ex- 
pressed not  for  the  sake  of  bringing  out  a  flattering  con- 
tradiction, but  genuine  and  honest. 

"  Oh,  dear !  I  now  feel  how  little  I  know.  Now  that 
I  am  educating  my  sons,  I  am  obliged  to  refresh  my 


ANNA    KARENINA  227 

memory.  I  learn  my  lessons  over  again.  Just  as  in 
your  estate,  you  have  to  have  workmen  and  overseers, 
so  here  it  needs  some  one  to  watch  the  teachers.  But 
sec  what  I  am  reading,"  —  and  he  pointed  to  the  gram- 
mar of  Buslayef  lying  on  the  stand,  —  "  Misha  has  to 
learn  it,  and  it  is  so  hard Now  explain  this  to  me." 

Levin  wanted  to  explain  to  him  that  it  was  impossible 
to  understand  it,  that  it  simply  had  to  be  learned.  But 
Lvof  did  not  agree  with  him. 

*'  Yes,  now  you  are  making  fun  of  it." 

"  On  the  contrary,  you  can't  imagine  how  much  I 
learn,  when  I  look  at  you,  about  the  way  to  teach 
children." 

"Well!     You  could  not  learn  much  from  me." 

"  I  only  know  that  I  never  saw  children  so  well 
brought  up  as  yours,  and  I  should  not  want  better  chil- 
dren than  yours." 

Lvof  evidently  wanted  to  restrain  himself  so  as  not 
to  betray  his  satisfaction,  but  his  face  lighted  up  with  a 
smile. 

"  Only  let  them  be  better  than  L  That  is  all  that  I 
want.  But  you  don't  know  the  bother,"  he  began, 
"  with  lads  who,  like  mine,  have  been  allowed  to  run 
wild  abroad." 

"  You  are  regulating  all  that.  They  are  such  capable 
children.  The  main  thing  is  —  their  moral  training. 
And  this  is  what  I  learn  in  looking  at  your  children." 

"  You  speak  of  the  moral  training.  You  can't  imag- 
ine how  hard  it  is.  Just  as  soon  as  you  have  conquered 
one  crop  of  weeds,  others  spring  up,  and  there  is  always 
a  fight.  If  you  don't  have  a  support  in  religion,  —  be- 
tween ourselves,  —  no  father  on  earth,  relying  on  his  own 
strength  and  without  this  help,  could  ever  succeed  in 
training  them." 

This  conversation,  which  was  extremely  interesting  to 
Levin,  was  interrupted  by  the  pretty  Natalie  Aleksan- 
drovna,  dressed  for  going  out. 

"  I  did  n't  know  you  were  here,"  said  she  to  Levin, 
evidently  not  regretting,  but  even  rejoicing,  that  she  had 
interrupted  his  conversation,  which  was  too  long  for  her 


228  ANNA    KARENINA 

pleasure.  "  Well !  and  how  is  Kitty  ?  I  am  going  to 
dine  with  you  to-day.  See  here,  Arseny,"  she  said, 
turning  to  her  husband,  "you  take  the  carriage."  .... 

And  between  husband  and  wife  began  a  discussion  of 
the  question  how  they  should  spend  the  day.  As  the 
husband  had  to  attend  to  his  official  business,  and  the 
wife  was  going  to  the  concert  and  to  a  public  session  of 
the  Committee  of  the  Southeast,  it  was  needful  to  dis- 
cuss and  think  it  all  over.  Levin,  as  a  member  of  the 
family,  was  obliged  to  take  part  in  these  plans.  It  was 
decided  that  he  should  go  with  Natalie  to  the  concert 
and  to  the  public  meeting,  and  then  send  the  carriage 
to  the  office  for  Arseny,  who  would  come  and  take  her 
to  Kitty's,  or  if  he  was  not  yet  ready  Levin  would  serve 
as  her  escort. 

"  This  man  is  spoiling  me,"  said  Lvof  to  his  wife  ; 
"  he  assures  me  that  our  children  are  lovely,  when  I 
know  that  they  are  full  of  faults." 

"  Arseny  goes  to  extremes.  I  always  say  so,"  said 
his  wife.  "  If  you  expect  perfection,  you  will  never  be 
satisfied.  And  papa  is  right  in  saying  that  when  we 
were  children  they  went  to  one  extreme :  they  kept  us 
on  the  entresol,  while  the  parents  lived  in  the  bel-etagc  ; 
but  now,  on  the  contrary,  the  parents  live  in  the  lumber- 
room,  and  the  children  in  the  bcl-etage.  The  parents 
are  now  of  no  account  ;  everything  must  be  for  the 
children." 

"  Supposing  this  is  more  agreeable  .■*  "  suggested  Lvof, 
with  his  winning  smile,  as  he  offered  her  his  arm.  "  Any 
one  not  knowing  you  would  think  that  you  were  not  a 
mother,  but  a  step-mother." 

"  No,  it  is  not  good  to  go  to  extremes  in  anything," 
said  Natalie,  gently,  laying  his  paper-cutter  in  its 
proper  place  on  the  table. 

"  Ah,  here  they  are  !  Come  in,  ye  perfect  children," 
said  Lvof  to  the  handsome  lads,  who  came  in,  and,  after 
bowing  to  Levin,  went  to  their  father,  evidently  wishing 
to  ask  some  favor  of  him. 

Levin  wanted  to  speak  with  them,  and  to  hear  what 
they  said  to  their  father,  but  Natalie  was  talking  with 


I 


ANNA    KARENINA  229 

him  ;  and  just  then  Lvof's  colleague,  Makhotin,  in  his 
court-uniform,  came  into  the  room,  and  began  a  lively 
conversation  about  Herzegovina,  the  Princess  Korzin- 
sky,  and  the  premature  death  of  Madame  Apraksin. 

Levin  forgot  all  about  Kitty's  message.  He  remem- 
bered it  just  as  they  reached  the  vestibule. 

"  Oh  !  Kitty  commissioned  me  to  speak  with  you 
about  Oblonsky,"  said  he,  as  Lvof  went  with  them  to 
the  head  of  the  staircase. 

"  Yes,  yes  !  manian  wants  us,  Ics  beaux-frbrs,  to  at- 
tack him,"  said  Lvof,  turning  red.     "  But  how  can  I }  " 

"Then  I'll  undertake  it,"  said  the  smiling  Madame 
Lvof,  who,  wrapped  in  her  white  dogskin  rotonda,  was 
waiting  till  they  should  finish  talking. 


CHAPTER   V 

Two  very  interesting  pieces  were  to  be  given  at  the 
matinee.  One  was  a  fantasia  or  symphonic  poem  called 
"The  King  Lear  of  the  Steppes,"  the  other  was  a  quar- 
tette dedicated  to  the  memory  of  Bach.  Both  pieces 
were  new  and  of  the  new  school,  and  Levin  desired  to 
form  his  own  opinion  in  regard  to  them.  So,  after  he 
had  conducted  his  sister-in-law  to  her  place,  he  took  his 
stand  near  a  column,  and  determined  to  listen  as  atten- 
tively and  conscientiously  as  possible.  He  tried  not  to 
allow  his  attention  to  be  distracted  and  his  impressions 
spoiled  by  letting  his  eyes  follow  the  white-cravatted 
kapellmeister's  waving  arms,  which  are  always  so  dis- 
turbing to  the  musical  attention,  or  by  looking  at  the 
ladies  in  their  hats,  who  for  concerts  take  especial  pains 
to  tie  ribbons  round  their  ears,  or  at  all  those  faces 
either  occupied  with  nothing,  or  occupied  with  the  most 
heterogeneous  interests,  music  being  the  last.  He  tried 
to  avoid  meeting  the  connoisseurs  and  the  chatterers, 
but  he  stood  alone  by  himself,  looking  down  and  listen- 
ing. 

But  the  more  he  Hstened  to  the  "King  Lear"  fantasia, 
the  more  he  felt  the  impossibility  of  forming  a  clear  and 


230  ANNA    KARENINA 

exact  idea  of  it.  The  musical  thought,  at  the  moment 
of  its  development,  was  constantly  interrupted  by  the 
introduction  of  new  themes,  or  vanished,  leaving  only 
the  impression  of  a  complicated  and  laborious  attempt 
at  instrumentation.  But  these  same  new  themes,  beau- 
tiful as  some  of  them  were,  gave  an  unpleasant  impres- 
sion, because  they  were  not  expected  or  prepared  for. 
Gayety  and  sadness  and  despair  and  tenderness  and 
triumph  followed  one  another  like  the  incoherent 
thoughts  of  a  madman,  to  be  themselves  followed  by 
others  as  wild. 

During  the  whole  performance.  Levin  experienced  a 
feeling  analogous  to  what  a  deaf  man  might  have  in 
looking  at  dancers.  He  was  in  a  state  of  utter  dubiety 
when  the  piece  came  to  an  end,  and  he  felt  a  great  weari- 
ness from  the  strain  of  intellectual  intensity  which  was 
never  rewarded. 

On  all  sides  were  heard  loud  applause  and  clapping 
of  hands.  All  got  up  and  moved  about,  talking.  Wish- 
ing to  get  some  light  on  his  doubts  by  the  impressions 
of  others.  Levin  began  to  walk  about,  seeking  for  the 
connoisseurs,  and  he  was  glad  when  at  last  he  saw  one 
of  the  best-known  musical  critics  talking  with  his  friend 
Pestsof. 

"It's  wonderful,"  said  Pestsof,  in  his  deep  bass. 
"  How  are  you,  Konstantin  Dmitritch  .''  The  passage 
that  is  the  richest  in  color,  the  most  statuesque,  so  to 
speak,  is  that  where  Cordelia  appears,  where  woman, 
das  ewig  Weibliche,  comes  into  conflict  with  fate. 
Don't  you  think  so  .'*  " 

"Why  Cordelia.^"  asked  Levin,  with  hesitation,  for 
he  had  wholly  forgotten  that  the  symphonic  jiocm  had 
anything  to  do  with  King  Lear. 

"Cordelia  appears  here,"  said  Pestsof,  tapping  with 
his  finger  on  the  satin  program  which  he  held  in  his 
hand.  Then  only  did  Levin  notice  the  title  of  the  sym- 
phonic poem,  and  he  made  haste  to  read  the  text  of 
Shakespeare,  translated  into  Russian  and  printed  on  the 
back  of  the  program.  "  You  can't  follow  it  without 
that,"    said    Pestsof,    addressing    Levin,    now    that    his 


ANNA    KARENINA  231 

friend,  the  critic,  had  gone,  and  there  was  nothing  more 
to  talk  with  him  about. 

Levin  and  Pestsof  spent  the  intermission  in  discuss- 
ing the  merits  and  defects  of  the  Wagnerian  tendencies 
in  music.  Levin  maintained  that  the  mistake  of  Wag- 
ner and  all  his  followers  consisted  in  transferring  music 
to  the  domain  of  an  alien  art,  that  poetry  made  the  mis- 
take when  it  tried  to  depict  the  features  of  the  human 
face,  which  it  was  the  province  of  painting  to  do,  and  as 
a  concrete  example  of  this  kind  of  a  mistake  he  adduced 
the  sculptor  who  should  try  to  express  in  marble  the 
shades  of  poetic  imagery  rising  round  the  figure  of  the 
poet  on  the  pedestal. 

"These  shades  are  so  far  from  being  shades  in  the. 
case  of  the  sculptor,  that  they  even  rest  on  the  steps," 
said  Levin.  This  phrase  pleased  him,  but  he  had  a 
lurking  suspicion  that  he  had  once  used  this  same 
phrase  before,  and  to  Pestsof  himself,  and  he  felt 
confused. 

Pestsof  argued  that  art  is  one,  and  that  it  can  reach  its 
loftiest  manifestations  only  by  combining  all  its  forms. 

Levin  could  not  listen  to  the  second  number  on  the 
program.  Pestsof,  who  was  standing  near  him-,  kept 
talking  t6  him  most  of  the  time,  criticizing  it  for  its  ex- 
cessive, mawkish,  affected  simplicity,  and  comparing  it 
to  the  simplicity  of  the  Pre-Raphaelites  in  painting. 

On  his  way  out,  he  met  various  acquaintances,  with 
whom  he  exchanged  remarks  on  politics,  music,  and 
other  topics ;  among  others  he  saw  Count  Bohl,  and  the 
call  which  he  should  have  made  on  him  came  to  mind. 

"Well,  go  quickly,"  said  Natalie,  to  whom  he  confided 
this.  "  Perhaps  the  countess  is  not  receiving.  If  so, 
you  will  come  and  join  me  at  the  meeting.  You  will 
have  plenty  of  time." 


232 


ANNA    KARENINA 


CHAPTER   VI 


"  Perhaps  they  are  not  receiving  ?  "  asked  Levin,  as 
he  entered  the  vestibule  of  Count  Bohl's  house. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  permit  me  !  "  answered  the  Swiss,  resolutely 
taking  the  visitor's  shuba. 

"  What  a  nuisance !  "  thought  Levin,  drawing  off  one 
of  his  gloves  with  a  sigh,  and  turning  his  hat  in  his 
hands.  "  Now,  why  did  I  come  ?  Now,  what  am  I 
going  to  say  to  them  .''  " 

Passing  through  the  first  drawing-room,  he  met  the 
Countess  Bohl  af  the  door,  who,  with  a  perplexed  and 
severe  face,  was  giving  orders  to  a  servant.  When  she 
saw  Levin,  she  smiled,  and  invited  him  to  walk  into  a 
small  parlor,  where  voices  were  heard.  In  this  room 
were  sitting  her  two  daughters  and  a  Muscovite  colonel 
whom  Levin  knew.  Levin  joined  them,  passed  the 
usual  compliments,  and  sat  down  near  a  divan,  holding 
his  hat  on  his  knee. 

"  How  is  your  wife  ?  Have  you  been  to  the  concert  .-* 
We  were  not  able  to  go.  Mamma  had  to  attend'  the 
requiem,"  said  one  of  the  young  ladies. 

"Yes,  I  heard  about  it  —  what  a  sudden  death!"  — 
said  Levin. 

The  countess  came  in,  sat  down  on  the  divan,  and 
asked  also  about  his  wife  and  the  concert. 

Levin  replied,  and  asked  some  questions  about  the 
sudden  death  of  Madame  Apraksin. 

"  But  then,  she  was  always  in  delicate  health." 

"  Were  you  at  the  opera  yesterday  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  was." 

"  Lucca  was  very  good." 

"  Yes,  very  good,"  he  said  ;  and  he  began,  seeing  that 
it  was  entirely  immaterial  to  him  what  they  thought 
about  him,  to  repeat  what  he  had  heard  a  hundred  times 
about  the  singer's  extraordinary  talent.  The  Countess 
Bohl  pretended  that  she  was  listening.  Then,  when  he 
had  said  all  he  had  to  say,  and  relapsed  into  silence,  the 
colonel,  who  had  hitherto  held  his  peace,  began  also  to 


ANNA    KARENINA  233 

speak.  The  colonel  also  talked  about  the  opera  and 
about  an  illumination.  Then,  saying  something  about  a 
supposititious  folle  journce  at  Turin,  the  colonel,  laugh- 
ing, got  up,  and  took  his  departure.  Levin  also  got  up, 
but  a  look  of  surprise  on  the  countess's  face  told  him 
that  it  was  not  yet  time  for  him  to  go.  Two  minutes 
more  at  least  were  necessary.      He  sat  down. 

But,  as  he  thought  what  a  foolish  figure  he  was  cut- 
ting, he  was  more  and  more  incapable  of  finding  a  sub- 
ject of  conversation. 

"Are  you  going  to  the  public  meeting.-'"  asked  the 
countess.     "They  say  it  will  be  very  interesting." 

"  No,  but  I  promised  my  bellc-sivur  that  I  would  call 
for  her  there,"  replied  Levin. 

Silence  again  ensued ;  the  mother  exchanged  a  look 
with  her  daughter. 

"  Now  it  must  be  time  to  go,"  thought  Levin  ;  and 
he  rose.  The  ladies  shook  hands  with  him,  and  charged 
him  with  mille  cJioscs  for  his  wife. 

The  Swiss,  as  he  put  on  his  shuba  for  him,  asked  his 
address,  and  wrote  it  gravely  in  a  large,  handsomely 
bound  book. 

"  Of  course,  it 's  all  the  same  to  me ;  but  how  useless 
and  ridiculous  it  all  is  !  "  thought  Levin,  comforting  him- 
self with  the  thought  that  every  one  did  the  same  thing, 
and  he  went  to  the  public  meeting  of  the  committee, 
where  he  was  to  find  his  sister-in-law  to  bring  her  home 
with  him. 

At  the  public  meeting  of  the  committee  there  was  a 
great  throng  of  people,  and  society  was  well  represented. 
Levin  reached  the  place  just  in  time  to  hear  a  sketch 
which  all  said  was  very  interesting.  When  the  reading 
of  the  sketch  was  finished,  society  came  together,  and 
Levin  met  Sviazhsky,  who  invited  him  to  come  that  very 
evening  to  a  meeting  of  the  Society  of  Rural  Economy,^ 
at  which  a  very  important  report  was  to  be  read.  He 
also  met  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  who  had  just  returned 
from  the  races,  and  many  other  acquaintances,  and 
Levin  talked  much  and  heard  many  opinions  relating  to 

1  Obshchestvo  sielskava  khozydistva. 


234  ANNA    KARENINA 

the  meeting  and  the  new  piece  and  the  lawsuit.  But 
apparently  in  consequence  of  his  weariness  and  the 
strain  which  he  began  to  feel,  he  made  a  blunder  in 
speaking  of  a  certain  lawsuit,  and  this  blunder  he  after- 
ward remembered  with  annoyance.  Speaking  of  the 
recent  punishment  of  a  foreigner  who  had  been  tried  in 
Russia,  and  that  it  would  have  been  irregular  to  punish 
him  by  exile.  Levin  repeated  what  he  had  heard  the 
evening  before  in  a  conversation  with  a  friend  of  his. 

'•'  I  think  that  to  send  him  abroad  is  just  the  same  as  to 
punish  a  fish  by  throwing  it  into  the  water,"  said  Levin. 

Too  late  he  remembered  that  this  comparison  which 
he  put  forth  to  express  his  thought,  though  he  had  heard 
his  friend  use  it,  was  really  taken  from  a  fable  by  Krui- 
lof,  and  that  his  friend  had  taken  it  from  the  fcuilleton 
of  a  newspaper. 

Returning  home  with  his  sister-in-law,  and  finding 
Kitty  well  and  happy,  Levin  went  to  the  club. 


CHAPTER   VII 

Levin  reached  the  club  very  punctually.  A  number 
of  the  guests  and  members  arrived  there  at  the  same 
time  as  he  did.  Levin  had  not  been  at  the  club  very 
recently,  indeed,  not  since  the  time  when,  having  finished 
his  studies  at  the  university,  he  passed  a  winter  at  Mos- 
cow, and  went  into  society.  He  remembered  the  club 
in  a  general  sort  of  way,  but  had  entirely  forgotten  the 
impressions  which,  in  former  days,  it  had  made  upon 
him.  But  as  soon  as  he  entered  the  great  semicircular 
dvor,  or  court,  sent  away  his  izvoshchik,  and  mounted  the 
steps  and  saw  the  liveried  Swiss  noiselessly  open  the  door 
for  him,  and  bow  as  he  ushered  him  in ;  as  soon  as  he 
saw  in  the  cloak-room  the  galoshes  and  shubas  of  the 
members,  who  felt  that  it  was  less  work  to  take  them  off 
down-stairs,  and  leave  them  with  the  Swiss,  than  to  wear 
them  up-stairs ;  as  soon  as  he  heard  the  well-known 
mysterious  sound  of  the  bell,  and  as  soon  as  he  mounted 
the  easy  flight  of  carpeted  stairs  and  saw  the  otatue  on 


ANNA    KARENINA  235 

the  landing,  and  on  the  upper  floor  recognized  the  third 
Swiss  in  his  ckib  Hvery,  who,  having  grown  older,  dis- 
played neither  dilatoriness  nor  haste  in  opening  the  door 
for  him,  he  once  more  felt  the  old-time  impression  of  the 
club  —  the  atmosphere  of  comfort,  ease,  and  good- 
breeding. 

"Your  hat,  if  you  please,"  said  the  Swiss  to  Levin, 
who  had  forgotten  the  rule  of  the  club  to  leave  hats  at 
the  cloak-room. 

"  It 's  a  long  time  since  you  were  here,"  said  the 
Swiss.  "  The  prince  wrote  to  you  yesterday.  Prince 
Stepan  Arkady evitch  has  not  come  yet." 

The  Swiss  knew  not  only  Levin,  but  all  his  connec- 
tions and  family,  and  took  pleasure  in  reminding  him 
of  his  relationships. 

Passing  through  the  first  connecting  "  hall  "  and  the 
conversation-room  at  the  right  where  the  fruit-dealer 
sits.  Levin,  who  walked  faster  than  the  old  attendant, 
entered  the  dining-room,  which  was  filled  with  a  noisy 
throng.  He  made  his  way  along  by  the  tables,  almost 
all  of  which  were  occupied.  As  he  looked  about  him 
on  all  sides,  he  saw  men  of  the  most  heterogeneous 
types,  old  and  young,  most  of  them  acquaintances  and 
many  of  them  friends.  It  seemed  as  if  all  of  them  had 
left  their  cares  and  worries  with  their  hats  in  the  cloak- 
room, and  had  collected  together  to  make  the  most  of 
the  material  advantages  of  life.  There  were  Sviazhsky 
and  Shcherbatsky  and  Nevyedovsky  and  the  old  prince 
and  Vronsky  and  Sergyei  Ivanovitch. 

"  Ah,  why  are  you  late  ?  "  said  the  prince,  with  a  smile, 
extending  his  hand  to  his  son-in-law  over  his  shoulder. 
"How  is  Kitty.''"  added  he,  putting*  a  corner  of  his 
napkin  into  the  button-hole  of  his  waistcoat. 

"  She  is  well,  and  is  dining  with  her  sisters." 

"  Ah  !  the  old  gossips  !  Well,  there  's  no  room  with 
us.  Go  to  that  table  there  and  get  a  seat  as  quickly  as 
you  can ....  "  said  the  prince,  taking  with  care  a  plate  of 
lik/ia,  or  soup  made  of  lotes. 

"  Here,  Levin,"  cried  a  jovial  voice  from  a  table  a 
little  farther  away. 


236  ANNA   KARENINA 

It  was  Turovtsuin.  He  was  sitting  with  a  young 
officer,  and  near  him  were  two  chairs  tilted  up.  Levin, 
with  joy,  went  to  join  him.  He  always  liked  the  good- 
hearted,  prodigal  Turovtsuin ;  his  reconciliation  with 
Kitty  was  connected  with  him,  and  now,  especially, 
after  all  his  wearisome  intellectual  conversations,  the 
sight  of  his  jolly  face  was  delightful. 

"These  places  were  for  you  and  Oblonsky.  He  will 
be  here  directly,"  said  Turovtsuin  ;  and  then  he  intro- 
duced Levin  to  the  young  officer,  who  held  himself  very 
straight  and  had  bright,  laughing  eyes,  —  Gagin,  from 
Petersburg. 

"Oblonsky  is  always  late." 

"Ah!  here  he  is." 

"You  have  only  just  come,  haven't  you  .i* "  asked 
Oblonsky  of  Levin,  hurrying  up  to  him.  "  Your  health. 
Will  you  take  vodka  .'*     Come  on,  then." 

Levin  got  up,  and  went  with  him  to  a  large  table,  on 
which  all  kinds  of  liquors  and  a  most  select  zakuska 
were  set  out.  It  would  seem  as  if  the  two  dozen  differ- 
ent kinds  of  drinks  might  have  offered  a  choice,  but 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch  thought  good  to  ask  for  a  special 
concoction,  which  a  servant  in  livery  hastened  to  get  for 
him.  They  drank  it  from  small  glasses,  and  then  re- 
turned to  their  places. 

At  the  very  first,  even  while  they  were  eating  their 
ukha,  Gagin  had  champagne  served,  and  he  ordered  the 
four  glasses  filled.  Levin  did  not  refuse  the  wine  when 
it  was  offered  to  him,  and  he  in  turn  ordered  a  bottle. 

He  was  hungry,  and  ate  and  drank  with  great  satis- 
faction ;  and  with  still  greater  satisfaction  took  part  in 
the  gay  and  lively  conversation  of  his  neighbors.  Gagin, 
lowering  his  voice,  told  a  new  Petersburg  anecdote ; 
and,  though  it  was  indecorous  and  ridiculous,  it  was  so 
funny  that  Levin  laughed  uproariously,  till  those  around 
him  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"  That  is  in  the  same  kind  as  '  Alas,  I  cannot  endure 
it,'  "  quoted  Stepan  Arkadyevitch.  "  Do  you  remember? 
Akh  !  it  was  lovely  !  Bring  us  another  bottle,"  said  he 
to  the  lackey,  and  he  began  to  tell  an  anecdote. 


ANNA   KARENINA  237 

"Piotr  Ilyitch  Vinovsky  sends  these,"  interrupted  a 
little  old  lackey,  addressing  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  and 
bringing  two  diminutive  glasses  of  bubbling  champagne, 
and  offering  them  to  Oblonsky  and  Levin.  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch  took  the  glass,  and,  exchanging  glances 
with  a  bald,  ruddy,  mustachioed  man,  at  the  other  end  of 
the  table,  nodded  to  him  and  smiled. 

"  Who  is  that .''  "  asked  Levin. 

"  You  met  him  at  my  house  once,  don't  you  remem- 
ber .-*     He's  a  very  good  fellow." 

Levin  followed  Oblonsky's  example,  and  took  his 
glass.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch's  anecdote  was  also  very 
diverting.  Then  Levin  had  his  story  to  tell,  and  it 
likewise  raised  a  laugh.  Then  the  conversation  turned 
on  horses,  and  the  races  that  had  taken  place  that  day, 
and  they  told  how  brilliantly  Vronsky's  trotter,  Atlasnui, 
had  won  the  first  prize. 

"  Ah,  here  they  are ! "  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, 
toward  the  end  of  the  dinner,  turning  round  in  his  chair 
to  extend  his  hand  to  Vronsky,  who  was  walking  with  a 
tall  colonel  of  the  Guards.  Vronsky's  face  was  also 
radiant  with  the  good-natured  gayety  that  reigned  in  the 
club.  He  leaned  his  elbow  on  Oblonsky's  shoulder,  and 
whispered  some  words  in  his  ear  with  an  air  of  good- 
humor,  and  extended  his  hand  with  a  friendly  smile  to 
Levin, 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you,"  said  he.  "  I  looked 
for  you  after  the  elections,  but  they  told  me  you  had 
gone." 

"Yes!     I  went  away  the  same  day We  have  just 

been  speaking  of  your  trotter.  It  was  a  very  fast 
race." 

"  Yes,  it  was.     Have  n't  you  race-horses,  too  }  " 

"  I }  No.  My  father  had  horses,  and  I  know  about 
them." 

"  Where  did  you  dine  .-' "  asked  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 

"  At  the  second  table,  behind  the  columns." 

"  He  has  been  loaded  down  with  congratulations.  It 's 
very  pretty....  a  second  imperial  prize.  I  wish  I  could 
only  have  the  same  luck  at  play  as  he  does  with  horses 


238  ANNA    KARENINA 

Now !  how  they  waste  golden  time  !  I  am  going  to  the 
Infernalnaya,"  said  the  tall  colonel ;  and  he  left  them. 

"That's  Yashvin,"  said  Vronsky  to  Turovtsuin ;  and 
sat  down  in  a  vacant  place  near  them.  Having  drained 
the  glass  of  champagne  which  was  filled  for  him,  he  also 
ordered  a  bottle.  Either  from  the  effect  of  the  wine 
which  he  had  drunk,  or  from  the  social  atmosphere  of 
the  club.  Levin  talked  cordially  with  him  about  the  best 
breeds  of  cattle,  and  was  happy  to  feel  no  more  hatred 
against  his  former  rival.  He  even  told  him,  among  other 
things,  that  he  had  heard  from  his  wife  of  the  meeting 
which  had  taken  place  at  the  house  of  the  Princess 
Marya  Borisovna. 

"  Akh  !  the  Princess  Marya  Borisovna  ?  She  's  a 
charmer !  "  exclaimed  Stepan  Arkadyevitch ;  and  he 
told  an  anecdote  of  the  old  lady  which  made  every  one 
laugh.  Especially  Vronsky  laughed  so  heartily  that 
Levin  felt  perfectly  reconciled  to  him. 

"Well,  gentlemen,  have  we  finished.?"  said  Oblonsky, 
getting  up  and  smiling.     "Then  let  us  go." 


CHAPTER   VIII 

On  leaving  the  table  Levin,  in  company  with  Gagin, 
walked  through  the  lofty  rooms  to  the  billiard-room,  and 
he  felt  that  his  walk  was  singularly  straight,  and  that  his 
hands  moved  easily.  In  the  large  "hall"  he  met  his 
father-in-law. 

"  Well !  How  do  you  like  our  Temple  of  Indolence  ?  " 
asked  the  old  prince,  taking  his  son-in-law  by  the  arm. 
"  Come,  take  a  turn." 

"  I  should  like  to  look  around.     It  is  interesting." 

"  Yes,  to  you ;  but  my  interest  in  it  is  different  from 
yours.  When  you  see  old  men  like  that,"  said  he,  indi- 
cating a  member  of  the  club  who,  with  stooping  shoul- 
ders and  falling  lip,  was  slowly  shuffling  along  in  soft 
boots  across  the  hall,  "you  would  think  that  they  were 
born  shliupiks." 

"  Why  do  you  call  them  '  little  sloops  '  ?  " 


ANNA   KARENINA  141 

f  am  troubled  about  Yashvin,  and  I  want  to  stay  here 
till  he  has  finished  playing." 

"  Is  he  going  to  lose?  " 

"  All  he  has.  I  am  the  only  one  who  has  any  influ- 
ence over  him,"  said  Vronsky. 

"  What  do  you  say,  Levin,  shall  we  have  a  game  of 
pool.-*  First-rate,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch.  "Place 
the  pyramid,"  said  he,  addressing  the  marker. 

"  It  is  all  ready,"  replied  the  marker,  who  had  some 
time  before  put  the  balls  in  the  triangular  frame,  and 
had  placed  the  red  ball  in  readiness  to  break  the 
pyramid. 

"Well,  then,  go  ahead." 

After  their  game,  Vronsky  and  Levin  sat  down  at 
Gagin's  table,  and  Levin,  at  Stepan  Arkadyevitch's 
instance,  began  to  bet  on  the  aces.  Vronsky  sat  down 
for  a  time  at  the  same  table,  where  his  acquaintances 
kept  coming  up  and  joining  him  ;  then,  after  a  time,  he 
went  to  the  Infernalnaya  to  find  out  how  Yashvin  was  get- 
ting along.  Levin  felt  a  pleasant  sense  of  exhilaration 
after  the  intellectual  weariness  of  the  morning.  He  was 
pleased  to  have  his  unfriendly  feelings  toward  Vronsky 
ended,  and  the  impression  of  restfulness,  good-fellow- 
ship, and  comfort  still  remained  by  him. 

When  the  game  was  ended,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch 
took  Levin's  arm,  saying:  — 

"  Well !  let  us  go  to  see  Anna.  We  need  n't  wait  for 
Vronsky.  What  say  you  ?  She  is  at  home.  I  promised 
her  to  bring  you  a  long  time  ago.  Where  were  you  go- 
ing this  evening .'' " 

"  Nowhere  in  particular.  I  only  told  Sviazhsky  I 
would  go  to  the  Society  of  Rural  Economy.  But  I  '11 
go  with  you,  if  you  wish." 

"  Excellent !  let  us  go,  then.  See  if  my  carriage  has 
come,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  addressing  a  lackey. 

Levin  went  to  the  desk,  paid  the  forty  rubles  which 
he  had  lost  at  cards,  in  some  mysterious  way  gave  his 
fee  to  the  old  lackey  who  was  standing  by  the  door,  and 
went  through  the  long  rooms  down  to  the  entrance. 
VOL.  in.  — 16 


242  ANNA    KARENINA 


CHAPTER   IX 

"  Oblonsky's  carriage  !  "  cried  the  Swiss,  in  a  porten- 
tous voice. 

The  carriage  came  up,  and  the  two  friends  got  in. 
Only  as  long  as  the  carriage  was  still  in  the  courtyard 
did  Levin  continue  to  experience  the  feeling  of  clubbish 
comfort,  of  satisfaction,  and  of  indubitable  decorum, 
which  had  surrounded  him.  But  as  soon  as  the  car- 
riage rolled  out  on  the  street,  the  jolting  over  the  un- 
even pavement,  the  cries  of  an  angry  izvoshchik  whom 
they  met,  and  the  sight  of  the  red  sign  of  a  low  public 
house  and  some  shops  lighted  up,  caused  this  impression 
to  fade  away,  and  he  began  to  think  over  what  follies  he 
had  committed,  and  to  ask  himself  if  he  were  doing  right 
in  going  to  see  Anna.  What  would  Kitty  say  ?  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch,  as  if  he  had  divined  what  was  passing  in 
the  mind  of  his  companion,  cut  short  his  meditations. 

"How  glad  I  am,"  said  he,  "that  you  are  going  to 
know  her !  You  know  Dolly  has  been  wishing  it  for  a 
long  time.  Lvof  goes  to  her  house,  too.  Though  she 
is  my  sister,"  continued  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  "  I  am 
bold  enough  to  say  that  she  is  a  remarkable  woman. 
You  will  see  it.  Her  position  is  very  hard,  especially 
just  now." 

"  Why  do  you  say  '  especially  now  ' .?  " 

"  We  are  negotiating  with  her  husband  for  a  divorce, 
and  he  is  willing ;  but  there  are  difficulties  on  account 
of  the  son ;  and  this  matter,  which  ought  to  have  been 
settled  long  ago,  is  dragging  on  now  these  three  months. 
As  soon  as  the  divorce  is  granted,  she  will  marry  Vronsky. 
—  How  stupid  it  is,  this  old  habit  of  dizziness,  '  Isaiah  re- 
joice,' in  which  no  one  believes,  and  which  destroys  the 
happiness  of  people,"  exclaimed  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, 
interrupting  what  he  was  saying.  Then  he  went  on, 
"  and  then  her  position  will  become  as  regular  as  yours 
or  mine." 

"  Where  does  the  difficulty  lie  ?  " 

"  Akh  !  it  is  a  long  and  tiresome  story;  everything  is 


ANNA    KARENINA  243 

so  undecided.  But  this  is  the  point :  she  has  been  wait- 
ing three  months  for  that  divorce  here  in  Moscow,  where 
everybody  knows  her  and  him;  and  she  doesn't  see  a 
single  woman  but  Dolly,  because,  don't  you  see,  she 
does  n't  wish  that  any  one  should  come  to  see  her  from 
j)ity.  What  do  you  think  ?  That  fool  of  a  Princess 
Varvara  left  her  because  she  considered  it  irregular. 
Any  other  woman  than  Anna  would  not  have  found 
resources  in  herself ;  but  you  shall  see  how  she  lives, 
how  dignified  and  calm  she  is.  —  To  the  left,  at  the  cor- 
ner opposite  the  church,"  cried  Oblonsky  to  the  coach- 
man, leaning  out  of  the  window.  "  Fu,  how  hot  it  is  !  " 
he  added,  throwing  open  his  shuba  in  spite  of  twelve 
degrees  of  cold. 

"  Well,  she  has  a  daughter,  has  n't  she,  to  take  up 
her  time  and  attention  ?  " 

"  You  seem  to  imagine  every  woman  to  be  only  a 
setting-hen,  tine  coiiveusc,''  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 
"  Why,  yes,  of  course,  she  gives  her  time  and  attention 
to  her  daughter  ;  but  she  does  n't  make  any  fuss  about  it. 
She  is  occupied  mainly  with  her  writing.  I  see  you  smile 
ironically,  but  you  are  wrong.  She  has  written  a  book 
for  young  people.  She  has  n't  spoken  of  it  to  any  one, 
except  to  me  ;  and  I  showed  the  manuscript  to  Vorkuyef, 
the  publisher  ....  you  know  he  is  a  writer  himself,  it  seems. 
He  is  up  in  such  matters,  and  he  says  that  it  is  a  remark- 
able thing.  Do  you  think  that  she  sets  up  for  a  blue- 
stocking .''  Not  at  all.  Anna  is,  above  all  things,  a 
woman  with  a  heart,  as  you  will  see.  She  has  in  her 
house  a  little  EngHsh  girl  and  a  whole  family,  and  is 
looking  after  them." 

"  What .''     Some  philanthropical  scheme .''  " 

"  Here  you  are  immediately  trying  to  turn  it  into 
something  absurd !  It  is  not  for  philanthropy's  sake, 
but  because  she  loves  to  do  it.  They  had  —  that  is, 
Vronsky  had- — an  EngHsh  trainer,  a  master  in  his  call- 
ing, but  a  drunkard.  He  did  nothing  but  drink  —  de- 
lirium tremens  —  and  abandoned  his  family.  Anna  saw 
them,  helped  them,  got  drawn  in  more  and  more,  and 
now  has  the  whole  family  on  her  hands.     I  don't  mean 


244  ANNA    KARENINA 

merely  by  giving  them  money.  She  herself  teaches  the 
boys  Russian,  so  as  to  fit  them  for  the  gymnasium  ;  and 
she  has  taken  the  little  girl  home  with  her.  Well,  you 
shall  see  her." 

At  this  moment  the  carriage  entered  a  courtyard. 
Stepan  Arkadycvitch  rang  at  the  door  before  which 
they  had  stopped,  and,  without  inquiring  whether  the 
mistress  of  the  house  was  at  home,  went  into  the  vesti- 
bule. Levin  followed  him,  more  and  more  uneasy  as  to 
the  propriety  of  the  step  he  was  taking. 

He  saw,  as  he  looked  at  himself  in  the  glass,  that  he 
was  very  red  in  the  face ;  but  he  knew  that  he  was  not 
tipsy.  He  went  up  the  carpeted  stairs  after  Oblonsky. 
On  the  second  floor  a  servant  received  them  with  a  bow  ; 
and  Stepan  Arkadycvitch,  as  if  he  were  a  connection, 
asked  him,  "Who  is  with  Anna  Arkadyevna  .■* "  and 
received  the  answer  :  — 

"  Mr.  Vorkuyef." 

"Where  are  they.?" 

"  In  the  library." 

They  passed  through  a  small,  wainscoted  dining-room, 
and  walking  along  on  the  thick  carpet  they  came  to  the 
library,  dimly  lighted  by  a  single  lamp  with  a  huge  shade. 
A  reflector-lamp  on  the  wall  threw  its  rays  on  a  full-length 
portrait  of  a  woman,  which  instantly  attracted  Levin's 
attention.  It  was  the  portrait  of  Anna,  painted  by  Mi- 
khai'lof  in  Italy.  While  Stepan  Arkadycvitch  went  on, 
and  the  man's  voice,  which  had  been  heard,  ceased  speak- 
ing, Levin  stood  looking  at  the  portrait  which  shone  down 
from  its  frame,  and  he  could  not  tear  himself  away.  He 
forgot  where  he  was ;  and,  not  hearing  what  was  said, 
he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  wonderful  portrait.  It  was 
not  a  painting,  but  a  living,  beautiful  woman,  with  her 
dark,  curling  hair,  bare  shoulders  and  arms,  and  a  pen- 
sive half-smile  on  her  lovely  lips,  and  gazing  at  him  tri- 
umphantly and  yet  tenderly  from  her  entrancing  eyes. 
Only  because  it  was  not  alive  did  it  seem  more  beautiful 
than  life  itself. 

"  Ytr  otchcn  rada  —  I  am  very  glad,"  said  a  voice,  sud- 
denly, behind    him,  cvidentlv  addressed   to   him,  —  the 


ANNA   KARENINA  245 

voice   of   the  same   woman   whom   he   admired    in    the 
picture. 

It  was  Anna,  who  had  been  concealed  by  a  lattice- 
work of  climbing  plants,  and  who  rose  to  receive  her 
visitor.  And  in  the  dusk  of  the  library  Levin  recog- 
nized the  original  of  the  portrait,  in  a  simple  dark  blue 
gown,  not  in  the  same  position,  not  with  the  same  ex- 
pression, but  with  the  same  lofty  beauty  which  had  been 
represented  by  the  artist  in  the  painting.  She  was  less 
brilliant  in  the  reality,  but  the  living  woman  had  a  new 
attraction  which  the  portrait  lacked. 


CHAPTER   X 

She  advanced  to  meet  him,  and  did  not  conceal  the 
pleasure  which  his  visit  caused  her.  With  the  ease  and 
simplicity  which  Levin  recognized  as  characteristic  of  a 
woman  of  the  best  society,  she  extended  to  him  a  small, 
energetic  hand,  introduced  him  to  Vorkuyef,  and  called 
his  attention  to  a  light-complexioned  and  pretty  little 
girl  —  her  pupil,  she  said  —  who  was  seated  with  her 
work  near  the  table. 

"  I  am  very,  very  glad,"  she  repeated  ;  and  in  these 
simple  words,  spoken  by  her.  Levin  found  an  extraordi- 
nary significance.  "  I  have  known  you  and  liked  you 
for  ever  so  long,  both  because  of  your  friendship  with 

Stiva  and  because  of  your  wife I  knew  her  a  very 

short  time,  but  she  gave  me  the  impression  of  a  flower, 
a  lovely  flower.  And  to  think !  she  will  soon  be  a 
mother !  " 

She  talked  freely  and  without  haste,  occasionally  look- 
ing from  Levin  to  her  brother,  and  Levin  was  conscious 
that  the  impression  which  he  produced  was  excellent, 
and  he  immediately  felt  perfectly  at  his  ease  with  her 
and  on  the  simplest  and  most  friendly  terms,  as  if  he 
had  known  her  from  childhood. 

To  Oblonsky,  who  asked  if  smoking  was  allowed,  she 
replied  :  — 

"That  is  why  we  have  taken  refuge  in  AlekseT's  study ; '' 


246  ANNA    KARENINA 

and,  looking  at  Levin,  instead  of  asking  "  Do  you 
smoke?  "  she  held  over  a  tortoise-shell  cigar-case  to  him, 
and  took  a  cigarette  herself. 

"  How  are  you  to-day  ?  "  asked  her  brother. 

"  Pretty  well ;  a  little  nervous,  as  usual." 

"  Isn't  it  extraordinarily  good  .'*  "  said  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch,  noticing  Levin's  admiration  of  the  portrait. 

"  I  never  saw  a  better  portrait." 

"An  extraordinary  likeness,  is  n't  it.'"  added  Vorkuyef. 

Levin  looked  from  the  portrait  to  the  original.  Anna's 
face  lighted  up  with  a  peculiar  glow  as  she  felt  conscious 
of  his  eyes  resting  on  her.  He  blushed,  and,  to  conceal 
his  confusion,  was  just  going  to  ask  her  when  she  had 
seen  Darya  Aleksandrovna.  But  at  that  instant  Anna 
said  :  — 

"  Ivan  Petrovitch  and  I  were  talking  just  now  of 
Vashchenkof's  pictures.     Do  you  know  them  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  have  seen  them,"  answered  Levin. 

"  But  I  beg  your  pardon  ....  you  were  just  going  to  ask 
me  something  ? " 

Levin  asked  whether  she  had  seen  Dolly  lately. 

"  She  was  here  yesterday.  She  was  indignant  at  what 
happened  to  Grisha  at  the  gymnasium.  It  seems  his 
Latin  teacher  was  unfair  to  him." 

"  Yes ;  I  saw  the  pictures.  They  pleased  me  very 
much,"  said  Levin,  returning  to  the  topic  which  they 
had  begun  to  talk  about. 

What  Levin  now  said  was  entirely  free  from  the  tech- 
nical formaUty  with  which  he  had  talked  in  the  morning. 
Every  word  of  the  conversation  with  her  seemed  to  be 
significant.  And  pleasant  as  it  was  to  talk  with  her,  it 
was  still  pleasanter  to  listen  to  her.  Anna  talked  not 
only  naturally  and  intelligently,  but,  though  intelligently, 
still  without  pretense,  not  arrogating  any  great  importance 
to  her  own  thoughts  but  attributing  great  importance  to 
what  her  friends  said. 

The  conversation  turned  on  the  new  tendencies  of  art 
and  on  some  new  illustrations  to  the  Bible  which  a 
French  artist  had  recently  made. 

Vorkuyef   severely  criticized  the  realism   which  the 


ANNA    KARENINA  247 

artist  carried  to  brutality ;  Levin  remarked  that  the 
French  had  carried  conventionaHty  in  art  to  greater 
lengths  than  any  other  people,  and  that,  therefore,  they 
found  especial  merit  in  the  reaction  toward  realism. 
They  discovered  poetry  in  the  fact  that  they  no  longer 
lied. 

Never  had  Levin  said  a  clever  thing  which  gave  him 
anything  like  the  pleasure  that  this  did.  Anna's  face 
grew  suddenly  bright,  as  the  full  force  of  his  remark 
dawned  on  her.     She  laughed. 

"I  am  delighted,"  she  said;  "just  as  you  are  when 
you  see  a  very  lifelike  portrait.  What  you  just  said  is 
characteristic  of  all  French  art  at  the  present  time  — 
painting  and  even  literature :  Zola,  Daudet.  But  pos- 
sibly this  is  always  the  way  that  men  form  their 
conceptions  from  imaginary,  conventional  figures,  but 
afterward  —  all  the  couibinaisons  made,  the  imaginary 
figures  weary,  and  people  begin  to  invent  more  natural 
and  truthful  figures." 

"That  is  perfectly  true,"  said  Vorkuyef. 

"Have  you  been  to  the  club.''"  asked  Anna,  turning 
to  her  brother. 

"  Yes,  yes,  here  is  a  genuine  woman,"  said  Levin  to 
himself,  forgetting  himself,  and  gazing  steadily  into  her 
handsome,  mobile  face,  which  now  suddenly  changed 
its  expression.  Levin  did  not  hear  what  she  was  talk- 
ing about  as  she  bent  over  toward  her  brother,  but  he 
was  struck  by  the  change  in  her  expression.  Beautiful 
as  it  had  been  before  in  repose,  it  now  suddenly  as- 
sumed a  mixed  expression  of  curiosity,  wrath,  and  pride. 
But  this  lasted  for  only  one  minute.  She  half  closed 
her  eyes,  as  if  she  were  trying  to  remember  something. 

"  However,  this  is  interesting  to  no  one,"  said  she, 
and  she  addressed  the  English  girl  in  English.  "  Please 
order  the  tea  in  the  el^-awing-rooni  ^ 

The  girl  rose  and  went  out. 

"Well,  has  she  passed  the  examination.?"  asked 
Stepan  Arkady evitch. 

"  Perfectly.  She  is  a  very  capable  girl,  and  a  lovely 
character." 


248  ANNA    KARENINA 

"You  will  end  by  loving  her  better  than  your  own 
daughter." 

"That's  just  like  a  man.  In  love,  there  is  no  such  a 
thing  as  more  or  less.  I  love  my  daughter  in  one  way, 
and  this  girl  in  another." 

"'I  tell  Anna  Arkadyevna,"  said  Yorkuyef,  "that  if  she 
would  spend  a  hundredth  part  of  the  activity  she  devotes 
to  this  Httle  English  girl  for  the  benefit  of  Russian  chil- 
dren, what  a  service  her  energy  would  render.  She 
would  accomplish  prodigies." 

"  Now  there !  What  you  want,  I  can't  do  !  Count 
Aleksei  Kirillovitch  "  — she  glanced  with  an  air  of  timid 
inquiry  at  Levin  as  she  pronounced  this  name,  and  he 
involuntarily  responded  by  a  look  which  was  encourag- 
ing, and  full  of  admiration  —  "  used  to  encourage  me, 
when  we  were  in  the  country,  to  visit  the  schools.  I 
went  a  few  times.  They  were  very  pleasant,  but  I 
could  n't  get  interested  in  this  occupation.  You  talk  of 
energy ;  but  the  foundation  of  energy  is  love,  and  love 
does  not  come  at  will.  So  I  love  this  little  English  girl, 
but  I  really  don't  know  why." 

She  looked  at  Levin  again  ;  and  her  smile  and  her 
look  all  told  him  that  she  spoke  only  with  the  aim  of 
gaining  his  approval,  though  sure  in  advance  that  they 
understood  each  other. 

"  I  agree  with  you  thoroughly,"  cried  he.  "  You  can't 
put  your  heart  into  schools  and  such  things,  and  I  think 
that  from  the  same  reason  philanthropic  institutions  gen- 
erally give  such  small  results." 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  then  she  smiled.  "  Yes, 
yes,"  she  replied,  "  I  never  could.  Je  iiai  pas  le  coeiir 
asscz  large  to  love  a  whole  asylum  of  wretched  little 
girls,  cela  ne  majainais  reiissi.  Women  only  do  it  to  win 
for  themselves  position  socialc.  Even  now,  when  I  have 
so  much  need  of  occupation,"  added  she  with  a  sad,  con- 
fiding expression,  addressing  Levin,  though  she  was 
speaking  to  her  brother,  "even  now  I  cannot."  Then, 
suddenly  frowning,  —  and  Levin  saw  that  she  frowned 
because  she  had  begun  to  speak  of  herself,  —  she 
changed  the  subject. 


ANNA    KARENINA  249 

"  T  know  about  you,"  said  sb.c,  smiling  at  Levin  ;  "you 
have  the  reputation  of  being  only  an  indifferent  citizen, 
but  I  have  always  defended  you  as  well  as  I  could." 

"  How  have  you  defended  me  ?  " 

"  That  has  depended  on  the  attacks.  But  suppose 
we  have  some  tea,"  said  she.  She  rose  and  took  a 
morocco-bound  book  which  was  lying  on  the  table. 

"Give  it  to  me,  Anna  Arkadyevna,"  said  Vorkuyef, 
pointing  to  the  book,  "it  is  well  worth  while." 

"  No  ;  it 's  all  so  unfinished  !  " 

"  I  have  told  him  about  it,"  remarked  Stepan  Arkadyc- 
vitch,  indicating  Levin. 

"  You  were  wrong.  My  writings  are  Hke  those  little 
baskets  and   carvings  made  by    prisoners,   which   Liza" 

Myertsalova   used  to  sell She   managed   the  prisons 

for  our  society,"  said  she,  turning  to  Levin.  "  Those 
unfortunates  used  to  do  perfect  miracles  of  patience." 

Levin  was  struck  by  still  a  new  feature  in  this  remark- 
able, fascinating  woman.  Besides  wit,  grace,  beauty, 
she  had  sincerity.  She  did  not  wish  to  conceal  the 
thorns  of  her  situation.  As  she  said  that  she  sighed,  and 
her  face  suddenly  assumed  a  stern  expression,  as  if 
it  were  changed  to  stone.  With  this  expression  on  her 
face,  she  was  even  more  beautiful  than  before.  But 
that  expression  was  new ;  it  was  entirely  alien  to  that 
which  a  few  moments  before  had  seemed  to  irradiate 
happiness,  and  which  the  artist  had  managed  to  repro- 
duce in  the  portrait.  Levin  looked  once  more  at  the 
portrait  and  at  the  original  of  it,  while  Anna  took  her 
brother's  arm,  and  a  feeling  of  tenderness  and  pity  came 
over  him,  surprising  even  himself.  She  let  the  two 
gentlemen  pass  into  the  parlor,  and  remained  behind  to 
speak  to  Stiva. 

"  What  is  she  talking  with  him  about .''  —  the  divorce  ? 
Vronsky .''  what  he  was  doing  at  the  club.''  about  me.''" 
thought  Levin  ;  and  he  was  so  stirred  that  he  heard 
nothing  that  Vorkuyef  was  saying  to  him  about  the 
merits  of  the  story  for  children  which  Anna  Arkadyevna 
had  written. 

During  tea,  a  pleasant  conversation  full  of  ideas  was 


250 


ANNA    KARENINA 


carried  on.  There  seemed  to  be  no  lack  of  subjects  at 
any  moment ;  but  it  was  felt  that  there  was  time  to  say 
all  that  any  one  wanted  to  sa}^  and  each  was  willing  to 
listen  when  the  other  talked.  And  all  that  was  said,  not 
only  by  Anna  herself,  but  by  Vorkuyef  and  by  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch,  had  a  special  significance,  thanks  to  her 
interested  attention  and  her  pertinent  remarks;  so  at 
least  it  seemed  to  Levin. 

All  the  time  they  were  talking  Levin  studied  her,  and 
admired  her  beauty  and  the  cultivation  of  her  mind,  and 
not  less  her  perfect  simplicity  and  naturalness.  He  lis- 
tened and  talked,  and  all  the  time  thought  about  her  and 
her  inner  life,  and  tried  to  penetrate  her  feelings ;  and 
he,  who  had  formerly  criticized  her  so  severely,  now  by 
some  strange  train  of  thought  justified  her  and  pitied 
her,  and  confessed  to  himself  the  fear  that  Vronsky  did 
not  wholly  understand  her. 

It  was  more  than  eleven  o'clock  when  Stepan  Arka- 
dyevitch rose  to  go.  Vorkuyef  had  already  left  some 
time  before.  Levin  rose,  too,  but  with  regret.  He  felt 
as  if  he  had  only  just  come. 

^^  Prashcha'ite  —  farewell,"  said  Anna  to  him,  holding 
his  hand  in  hers,  and  looking  into  his  eyes  with  a  fas- 
cinating look.      "  I  am  glad  que  la  glace  est  rovipue.'''' 

She  let  go  his  hand,  and  her  eyes  twinkled. 

"  Tell  your  wife  that  I  love  her  as  I  have  always  done ; 
and,  if  she  cannot  forgive  me  my  position,  tell  her  how 
I  hope  she  may  never  pardon  me  ;  for  to  pardon,  it  is 
necessary  to  understand  what  I  have  suffered ;  and  God 
preserve  her  from  that !  " 

"  Yes !  I  will  surely  tell  her,"  answered  Levin,  and 
the  color  came  into  his  face. 


CHAPTER   XI 

"What  a  wonderful,  lovely,  and  pitiable  woman!" 
thought  Levin,  as  he  went  out  with  Stepan  Arkadyevitch 
into  the  cold  night  air. 

"  There  !    what  did   I  tell  you  .-' "   demanded   Obion- 


ANNA    KARENINA  251 

sky,  as  he  saw  that  Levin  was  perfectly  overcome. 
"Wasn't  I  right?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Levin,  thoughtfully,  "an  extraordi- 
nary woman !  Not  only  intellectual,  but  she  has  a  won- 
derfully warm  heart.  What  a  terrible  pity  it  is  about 
her!" 

"  Now,  thank  God,  all  will  soon  be  arranged,  I 
hope.  Well,  after  this,  don't  form  hasty  judgments," 
said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  opening  his  carriage-door. 
^'  ProshcJia'i —  farewell;  we  go  different  ways." 

Levin  went  home,  never  ceasing  to  think  about  Anna, 
recalling  the  smallest  incidents  of  the  evening,  bringing 
back  all  the  charm  of  her  face,  and  understanding  her 
situation  better  and  better,  and,  at  the  same  time,  feel- 
ing the  deepest  commiseration  for  her. 

When  he  reached  his  house,  Kuzma  told  Levin  that 
Katerina  Aleksandrovna  was  well,  and  that  her  sisters 
had  but  just  left  her.  He  handed  him  at  the  same  time 
two  letters.  Levin,  as  he  stood  in  the  vestibule,  ran 
through  them  at  once  so  as  not  to  be  distracted  after- 
ward. One  was  from  his  superintendent,  Sokolof. 
Sokolof  wrote  that  he  had  not  found  a  purchaser  who 
would  give  more  than  iive  and  a  half  rubles  for  the 
wheat,  and  that  he  could  not  raise  the  money  elsewhere. 
The  other  letter  was  from  his  sister.  She  reproached 
him  because  her  affairs  were  not  yet  regulated. 

"  Well,  we  '11  sell  for  five  rubles  and  a  half  if  they 
won't  give  more,"  thought  he,  settling  with  extraordinary 
promptness  the  first  question  which  had  been  troubling 
him. 

"  It  is  wonderful  how  the  time  here  is  occupied,"  he 
said  to  himself,  thinking  of  the  second  letter.  He  felt 
that  he  was  to  blame  toward  his  sister,  because  he  had 
not  yet  accomplished  what  she  had  asked  him  to  do  for 
her.  "  To-day  I  did  not  get  to  the  court  either,  but  I  did 
not  have  a  moment's  time."  And,  making  up  his  mind 
that  he  would  surely  go  the  next  day,  he  went  to  his 
wife's  room.  On  his  way,  he  cast  a  quick  glance  back 
at  his  day.     There  had  been  nothing  except  conversa- 


252  ANNA    KARENINA 

tions,  —  conversations  in  which  he  had  listened,  and  in 
which  he  had  taken  part.  No  one  of  the  subjects 
touched  on  would  have  occupied  him  when  in  the  coun- 
try, but  here  they  were  very  interesting.  And  all  the 
conversations  in  which  he  had  engaged  were  good  :  only 
in  two  places  they  were  not  absolutely  good,  —  one  was 
his  remark  about  the  fish  at  the  club,  the  other  was 
something  intangibly  wrong  in  his  feeling  of  tender 
pity  for  Anna. 

Levin  found  his  wife  sad  and  absent-minded.  The 
dinner  of  the  three  sisters  had  been  merry ;  but  after- 
ward they  had  waited  and  waited  for  him,  and  the 
evening  had  seemed  long  to  them ;  and  now  Kitty  was 
alone. 

"  Well,  what  have  you  been  doing .'' "  she  asked  him, 
looking  at  him,  as  she  did  so,  with  a  suspicious  light  in 
her  eyes ;  but  she  took  good  care  to  conceal  her  inten- 
tions, so  as  not  to  prevent  him  from  telling  her  the 
whole  story,  and  with  an  encouraging  smile  she  listened 
as  he  told  her  how  he  had  spent  the  evening. 

"  Well,  I  met  Vronsky  at  the  club,  and  I  am  very  glad 
of  it.  I  felt  very  much  at  my  ease  with  him,  and  enjoyed 
it.  Of  course,  I  shall  try  to  avoid  him,  but  still  henceforth 
I  shan't  feel  that  awkwardness  in  his  society."  As  he 
said  these  words,  he  remembered  that  in  order  not  to 
"  avoid  him,"  he  had  immediately  gone  to  Anna's  house, 
and  his  face  grew  red.  "  Here  we  say  the  peasantry 
drink ;  but  I  don't  know  which  drink  more,  the  peas- 
antry, or  men  in  society.  The  peasantry  drink  on  fes- 
tival days,  but....  " 

Kitty  was  not  interested  in  the  question  how  much  the 
peasantry  drink.  She  saw  her  husband's  face  grow  red, 
and  she  wanted  to  know  the  reason. 

"  Well,  where  else  did  you  go  ?  " 

"  Stiva  insisted  on  my  going  with  him  to  Anna  Arka- 
dyevna's,"  answered  he,  blushing  more  and  more,  and  his 
doubts  as  to  the  propriety  of  his  visit  to  Anna  were  de- 
cided for  him.  He  now  knew  that  he  ought  not  to  have 
done  so. 

Kitty's  eyes  opened  wide  and  flashed  lightning  at  the 


ANNA    KARENINA  2S3 

mention  of  Anna ;  but  she  restrained  herself,  and,  con- 
cealing her  emotion,  she  misled  him. 

She  merely  said,  "  Ah  !  " 

"  You  are  not  going  to  be  vexed  because  I  went  ? 
Stiva  begged  me  to  go;  and  Dolly  wanted  me  to." 

"Oh,  no!"  said  she;  but  in  her  eyes  he  saw  a  look 
which  boded  little  good. 

"  She  is  a  very  charming  woman,  who  is  very  much 
to  be  pitied,  a  good  woman,"  continued  Levin  ;  and  he 
described  the  life  which  Anna  led,  and  gave  her  message 
of  remembrance  to  Kitty. 

"Yes,  of  course  she  is  to  be  pitied,"  said  Kitty,  when 
he  had  finished.     "  Whom  did  you  get  a  letter  from  ?  " 

He  told  her,  and,  misled  by  her  apparent  calmness, 
went  to  undress. 

When  he  came  back,  he  found  Kitty  in  the  same  arm- 
chair. When  he  approached,  she  looked  at  him,  and 
burst  into  tears. 

"What  is  it.^  What's  the  matter.?"  he  asked,  with 
some  annoyance ;  for  he  understood  the  cause  of  her 
tears. 

"  You  are  in  love  with  that  horrid  woman.  She  has 
bewitched  you.  I  saw  it  in  your  eyes.  Yes,  yes  !  What 
will  be.  the  end  of  it .''  You  were  at  the  club  ;  you  drank 
too  much  ;  you  gambled  ;  and  then  you  went  —  where  ! 
No  !  this  shall  not  go  on.  We  must  leave.  I  am  going 
home  to-morrow !  " 

It  was  long  before  Levin  could  pacify  his  wife  ;  and 
when  at  last  he  succeeded,  it  was  only  by  acknowledg- 
ing that  his  feeling  of  pity  for  Anna,  together  with  the 
wine,  had  clouded  his  brain,  and  that  he  had  fallen 
under  her  seductive  influence,  and  by  promising  that  he 
,  would  avoid  her.  What  he  acknowledged  with  more 
sincerity  was  the  ill  effect  produced  on  him  by  this  idle 
life  in  Moscow,  passed  in  eating,  drinking,  and  gossip- 
ing. They  talked  till  three  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
Only  when  it  was  three  o'clock  were  they  sufficientl}! 
reconciled  to  go  to  sleep. 


254  ANNA    KARENINA 


CHAPTER   XII 

After  having  said  good-by  to  her  visitors,  without 
sitting  down  Anna  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  full 
length  of  her  apartments. 

Of  late  she  had  got  into  the  habit  of  unconsciously 
doing  all  she  could  to  attract  young  men  to  her ;  and 
so  this  whole  evening  she  had  striven  to  awaken  a  feel- 
ing of  love  in  Levin.  But  though  she  knew  that  she 
had  succeeded  in  doing  this  as  far  as  it  was  possible 
with  a  chaste  married  man,  and  though  he  pleased  her 
very  much,  —  and  in  spite  of  the  sharply  defined  dis- 
similarity between  Vronsky  and  Levin,  she  as  a  woman 
was  able  to  detect  the  subtile  likeness  between  them 
which  had  caused  Kitty  to  be  in  love  with  them  both,  — 
yet  as  soon  as  he  had  left  the  room  she  ceased  to  think 
about  him. 

One  thought  and  one  only  in  various  guises  followed 
her :  — 

"  Why,  since  I  have  so  evidently  an  attraction  for 
others,  —  for  this  married  man,  who  is  in  love  with  his 
wife,  —  why  is  lie  so  cold  to  me.-*....  Yet  not  exactly  cold; 
he  loves  me,  I  know ;  but  lately  something  new  has 
come  between  us.  Why  has  he  spent  the  whole  eve- 
ning away }  He  told  Stiva  that  he  could  not  leave 
Yashvin,  but  had  to  watch  him  while  he  played.  Is 
Yashvin  a  baby .''  It  must  be  true ;  he  never  tells  lies. 
But  there  's  something  else  back  of  it.  He  is  glad  of 
the  chance  to  show  me  that  he  has  other  duties.  I 
know  this.  I  don't  object  to  it,  but  what  need  has  he 
to  assert  it  so  '^.  He  wants  to  show  that  his  love  for  me 
must  not  interfere  with  his  independence !  But  the 
proof  is  not  necessary.  I  must  have  his  love.  He 
ought  to  understand  the  wretchedness  of  the  life  I  lead 
here  in  Moscow.  Why  am  I  living .''  I  am  not  living, 
—  only  dragging  out  life,  in  •  hope  of  a  turn  in  affairs, 
which  never,  never  comes.  And  Stiva  says  that  he 
can't  go  to  AlekseY  Aleksandrovitch.  And  I  can't  write 
again.     I  cannot  do  anything,  I  can't  begin  anything, 


ANNA   KARENINA  255 

or  make  any  changes,  but  only  control  myself,  wait, 
and  invent  amusements  —  this  EngHsh  family,  my  read- 
ing, my  writing" ;  but  it  is  all  only  to  deceive  myself, 
like  this  morphine.  He  ought  to  be  sorry  for  me,"  she 
said,  feeling  how  the  tears  of  pity  at  her  own  lot  filled 
her  eyes. 

She  heard  the  door-bell  Vronsky  rang  violently ;  and 
instantly  she  wiped  away  her  tears,  not  only  wiped 
away  the  tears,  but  sat  down  near  the  lamp  with  a  book, 
and  pretended  to  be  calm.  She  felt  that  she  must  show 
her  dissatisfaction  because  he  had  not  returned  as  he 
had  promised,  but  not  to  let  her  grief  be  seen.  She 
might  pity  herself,  but  Vronsky  must  not  be  allowed  to 
pity  her.  She  did  not  want  a  contest,  she  blamed  him 
because  he  wanted  to  quarrel,  but  she  herself  involun- 
tarily took  the  attitude  of  an  opponent. 

"Well!  you  weren't  lonely,  were  you.-*"  said  he, 
briskly  and  cheerfully,  as  he  came  toward  her.  "  What 
a  terrible  passion  gambling  is." 

"  No,  I  was  not  lonely.  I  long  ago  learned  not  to 
be  lonely.     Stiva  and  Levin  have  been  here  to  see  me." 

"  Yes,  I  knew  that  they  intended  to  come.  Well,  and 
how  do  you  like  Levin  ?  "  he  asked,  as  he  sat  down  near 
her. 

"Very  much.  They  have  only  just  gone.  How 
about  Yashvin  ? " 

"  He  had  won  seventeen  thousand  rubles.  I  got  him 
away,  but  he  escaped  from  me,  and  went  back  again ; 
and  now  he  's  losing." 

"  But  why  did  you  abandon  him  ? "  said  Anna,  sud- 
denly raising  her  eyes  to  his.  The  expression  of  her 
face  was  cold  and  unpleasant.  "  You  told  Stiva  that 
you  were  going  to  stay,  to  bring  him  away.  Now  you 
abandon  him !  " 

"In  the  first  place,  I  did  not  send  any  message  to 
you ;  in  the  second  place,  I  never  tell  lies ;  and  chiefly, 
I  wished  to  stay  and  I  stayed,"  he  answered  angrily. 
"  Anna,  why,  why  do  you  do  so .'' "  added  he,  after  a 
moment's  silence,  holding  out  his  hand  to  her,  in  the 
hope  that  she  would  place  hers  in  it. 


256  ANNA    KARENINA 

She  was  glad  of  this  appeal  to  her  love,  but  some 
strange  spirit  of  evil  prevented  her  from  yielding. 

"  Of  course  you  stayed  because  you  wanted  to ;  you 
always  do  as  you  please.  But  why  tell  me  so  ?  What 
is  the  good.''"  answered  she,  growing  more  and  more 
heated.  "Who  denies  that  you  tell  the  truth.?  You 
wish  to  justify  yourself,  do  so  then  !  " 

Vronsky  drew  back  his  hand,  and  his  face  became 
more  set  than  before. 

"  For  you  this  is  a  matter  of  obstinacy,"  she  cried, 
looking  at  him  fixedly,  and  suddenly  finding  the  term  by 
which  to  call  the  expression  of  his  face  which  exasper- 
ated her  —  "  sheer  obstinacy.  For  you  the  question  is 
to  see  whether  you  will  win  the  victory  over  me.  But 
the  question  for  me ....  "  and  again  the  sense  of  her  piti- 
able lot  came  over  her,  and  she  almost  sobbed.  "  If 
you  knew  what  it  meant  for  me  when  I  feel,  as  I  do 
now,  that  you  hate  me, ....  yes,  hate  me!  If  you  knew 
what  it  meant  for  me  !  If  you  knew  how  near  I  am  to 
horrible  misfortune  at  these  moments!  how  I  fear.... 
how  I  fear  for  myself,"  —  and  she  turned  away  to  hide 
her  sobs. 

"But  what's  all  this  f  or .'' "  said  Vronsky,  alarmed  at 
this  despair,  and  leaning  toward  Anna  to  take  her  hand 
and  kiss  it.  "  Do  I  seek  outside  diversion  .-*  Don't  I 
avoid  the  society  of  women  ?  " 

"  As  if  that  were  all !  "  said  she.  , 

"  Well !  Tell  me  what  I  must  do  to  make  you  con- 
tent. I  am  ready  to  do  anything  that  you  may  be 
happy,"  said  he,  moved  to  see  her  in  such  despair. 
"  What  would  I  not  do  to  spare  you  such  grief,  Anna !  " 
he  said. 

"  It 's  nothing,  nothing,"  she  rephed.     "  I  myself  don't 

know.     It's  the  loneliness:  it 's  my  nerves There,  let's 

not  talk  about  it  any  more Tell  me  what  happened 

at  the  races.  Why  have  n't  you  told  me  about  it  .-^  "  she 
asked,  attempting  to  conceal  the  pride  she  felt  at  her 
victory,  for  she  knew  it  rested  with  her. 

Vronsky  asked  for  some  supper,  and  as  he  was  eat- 
ing described  to  her  the  incidents  of  the  races ;    but 


ANNA   KARENINA  257 

from  the  sound  of  his  voice,  and  from  his  glance,  that 
grew  colder  and  colder,  she  saw  that  he  would  not  for- 
give her  for  the  victory,  that  the  sense  of  obstinacy 
which  she  had  struggled  to  overcome  was  as  firm  in 
him  as  ever.  He  was  colder  toward  her  than  before, 
as  if  he  regretted  having  yielded  to  her.  And  as  she 
remembered  the  words  that  won  her  the  victory,  espe- 
cially the  words,  "  How  near  I  am  to  horrible  misfor- 
tune, and  I  fear  for  myself,"  she  realized  that  it  was  a 
dangerous  weapon,  and  that  she  must  never  employ  it 
again.  But  she  felt  that  along  with  the  love  which 
united  them,  there  stood  between  them  an  evil  spirit  of 
conflict  which  she  had  not  the  power  to  drive  from  his 
heart,  and  still  less  from  her  own. 


CHAPTER   Xni 

There  are  no  imaginable  conditions  to  which  a  man 
cannot  accustom  himself,  especially  if  he  sees  that  all 
those  who  surround  him  are  living  in  the  same  way. 

Three  months  before  Levin  would  not  have  believed 
that  he  could  have  slept  tranquilly  under  the  conditions 
in  which  he  found  himself  at  the  present  time,  —  that 
living  an  aimless,  unprofitable  life,  spending  more  than 
his  income,  getting  tipsy,  —  for  he  could  not  call  his 
experience  at  the  club  anything  else,  —  his  absurd  inti- 
macy with  a  man  with  whom  his  wife  had  once  been 
in  love,  and  his  still  more  absurd  visit  to  a  woman  whom 
it  was  impossible  to  regard  as  respectable,  and  after  the 
fascination  which  she  had  exerted  over  him  and  the 
mortification  which  he  had  caused  his  wife  —  that  under 
all  these  conditions  he  could  sleep  serenely.  But  under 
ihe  influence  of  his  weariness,  the  long  hours  without 
a  nap,  and  the  wine  which  he  had  drunk,  he  slept  soundly 
and  serenely. 

At  five  o'clock  the  noise  of  an  opening  door  wakened 
him.  He  sat  up  and  looked  around;  Kitty  was  not  in 
bed  next  him.  But  behind  a  screen  there  was  a  light 
moving,  and  he  heard  her  steps. 

VOL.  lU. —  17 


258  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  What 's  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked,  still  only  haa  awake. 
"  Kitty,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"Nothing,"  answered  she,  coming  from  behind  the 
screen  with  a  candle  in  her  hand,  and  smiling  at  him 
with  a  peculiarly  sweet  and  significant  smile  ;  "  I  don't 
feel  quite  well." 

"  What !  Is  this  the  beginning  ?  Must  we  send  .-'  " 
exclaimed  he  in  alarm,  and  he  began  to  dress  as  quickly 
as  possible. 

"  No,  no,"  said  she,  smiling,  and  holding  his  hand ; 
"  it 's  nothing ;  I  did  not  feel  quite  well ;  it 's  all  right 
now." 

Going  back  to  bed,  she  put  out  the  light,  and  lay- 
down  again,  keeping  perfectly  still,  although  her  very 
stillness  and  the  way  she,  as  it  were,  held  her  breath, 
were  suspicious,  and  still  more  so  the  expression  of  pe- 
culiar tenderness  and  alertness  with  which,  as  she  came 
out  from  behind  the  screen,  she  said  to  him,  "  it 's  noth- 
ing "  ;  still,  he  was  so  overcome  by  drowsiness  that  he 
immediately  went  to  sleep  again. 

It  was  only  afterward  that  he  realized  the  calmness 
of  her  spirit,  and  appreciated  all  that  was  passing  in 
her  dear,  gentle  heart  as  she  lay  thus  motionless  near 
him,  awaiting  the  most  solemn  moment  of  a  woman's  life. 

About  seven  o'clock  he  was  awakened  by  her  hand 
touching  his  shoulder  and  her  low  whisper.  She  appar- 
ently hesitated  between  the  fear  of  waking  him  and  the 
wish  to  speak  to  him. 

"  Kostia,  don't  be  afraid,  it's  nothing;  but  I  think.... 
Lizavyeta  Petrovna  had  better  be  called." 

The  candle  was  again  lighted.  She  was  sitting  on 
the  bed,  holding  the  knitting  on  which  she  had  been  at 
work  during  the  last  few  days. 

"  Please  don't  be  alarmed.  I  'm  not  in  the  least 
afraid,"  said  she,  seeing  her  husband's  terrified  face ; 
and  she  pressed  his  hand  to  her  breast,  then  to  her  lips. 

Levin  leaped  from  his  bed,  and,  unconscious  of  him- 
self, without  taking  his  eyes  off  his  wife  for  a  moment, 
hurried  on  his  dressing-gown.  It  was  necessary  for 
him  to  go,  but  he  could  not  tear  himself  away.     Dearly 


ANNA    KARENINA 


S9 


as  he  loVca  her  face,  well  as  he  knew  her  expression, 
her  eyes,  yet  never  before  had  he  seen  her  look  as  she 
did  then.  How  ugly  and  horrible  did  he  now  seem  as 
he  saw  her  now,  and  remembered  the  mortification  which 
he  had  caused  her  the  evening  before  !  Her  flushed 
face,  with  the  clustering  soft  curls  escaping  from  under 
her  nightcap,  was  radiant  with  joy  and  resolution. 

Natural  and  simple  as  Kitty's  character  in  general 
was,  Levin  was  amazed  by  what  unfolded  itself  before 
him  now,  when  suddenly  all  the  curtains  were  withdrawn, 
and  the  very  essence  of  her  soul  shone  in  her  eyes. 
And  in  this  simplicity  and  revelation,  she,  her  very  self, 
whom  he  loved,  was  more  apparent  than  ever.  She 
looked  at  him,  and  smiled.  But  suddenly  her  brows 
contracted,  she  lifted  her  head,  and,  coming  to  him,  took 
his  hand,  and  clung  to  him,  sighing  painfully.  She 
suffered,  and  yet  she  seemed  to  pity  him  for  her  suffer- 
ings. At  first,  as  he  saw  this  silent  suffering,  it  seemed 
to  him  that  he  was  to  blame  for  it.  But  in  her  look 
there  was  tenderness  which  told  him  that  she  not  only 
did  not  blame  him,  but  that  she  loved  him  all  the  more 
for  her  suffering. 

"  If  not  I,  who,  then,  is  to  blame  for  this .-'  "  he  asked 
himself.  She  suffered,  and  she  seemed  to  take  pride 
in  her  pain,  and  to  rejoice  in  it.  He  saw  that  in  her 
soul  some  beautiful  transformation  was  taking  place ; 
but  what  ?  he  could  not  understand.  It  was  above  his 
comprehension. 

"  I  have  sent  for  mamma.  Now  go  quick,  and  get 
Lizavyeta  Petrovna....  Kostia  ....  it 's  nothing  ....  it  is  all 
over." 

She  went  to  the  other  side  of  the  room,  and  rang  the 
bell. 

"  There,  now,  please  go.  Pasha  is  coming ;  I  want 
nothing."  And  Levin,  with  astonishment,  saw  her  take 
up  her  work  again. 

As  he  went  out  of  one  door,  he  heard  Pasha,  the  maid, 
come  in  at  the  other.  He  paused  on  the  threshold  and 
listened  as  Kitty  gave  directions  for  arranging  the  room, 
and  as  she  herself  began  to  move  the  bed. 


26o  ANNA    KARENINA 

He  dressed,  and  when  he  had  ordered  his  carriage, 
since  it  was  too  early  for  izvoshchiks,  he  flew  up  to  her 
room  again,  not  on  tiptoes,  but  on  wings,  as  it  seemed 
to  him.  Two  maids  were  busily  engaged  in  moving 
something  in  the  room.  Kitty  was  walking  up  and 
down,  knitting  swiftly,  slipping  the  knots,  and  giving 
directions. 

"  I  'm  going  for  the  doctor  immediately.  Lizavyeta 
Petrovna  has  been  sent  for,  but  I  will  call  there.  There  's 
nothing  more,  is  there  .'     Oh,  yes,  —  Dolly." 

She  looked  at  him,  evidently  without  hearing  what  he 
said.  "  Yes,  yes,  go,"  said  she,  and  motioned  to  him 
with  her  hand.  He  was  just  passing  through  the  draw- 
ing-room, when  he  heard  a  groan,  pitiful,  but  instantly 
suppressed.  He  stood  still,  and  could  not  make  up  his 
mind. 

"  It  is  she,"  he  said  to  himself  ;  and,  putting  his  hands 
to  his  head,  he  rushed  out. 

"Lord  have  mercy  on  us!  pardon  us!  save  us!"  he 
exclaimed  ;  and  these  words,  which  suddenly  and  unex- 
pectedly came  to  his  lips,  were  not  spoken  merely  by 
his  lips,  unbeliever  though  he  was. 

Now  at  this  instant,  he  knew  perfectly  well  that  all 
his  doubts  and  the  impossibility  which  his  reason  found 
in  belief,  had  not  the  slightest  influence  to  prevent  him 
from  addressing  himself  to  God.  Everything  of  this 
sort  now  vanished  like  dust  from  his  soul.  To  whom 
could  he  address  himself  if  not  to  Him  in  whose  hands 
he  felt  were  held  himself,  and  his  soul,  and  his  love  ? 

The  horse  was  not  yet  ready,  but,  feeling  the  special 
strain  of  physical  powers  unemployed,  and  of  the  work 
before  him  calling  for  his  attention,  he  started  on  foot 
so  as  not  to  lose  a  single  instant,  and  ordered  Kuzma 
to  follow  him.  At  the  corner  of  the  street  he  met  a 
night  izvoshchik  hurrying  along.  In  the  little  sledge 
sat  Lizavyeta  Petrovna,  in  a  velvet  cloak,  with  her  head 
wrapped  up  in  a  kerchief.  "  Thank  God  !  "  ^  he  mur- 
mured, as  he  saw  with  joy  her  pale  little  face,  which  had 
a  peculiarly  serious,  and  even  stern,  expression.     Not 

'  Slava  Bohu, 


ANNA    KARENINA  261 

ordering  the  driver  to  stop,  he  ran  along  with  it  back  to 
the  house. 

"  Only  two  hours  ?  not  more  ?  "  asked  Lizavyeta  Pe- 
trovna.  "  You  may  speak  to  Piotr  Dmitritch,  but  don't 
hurry  him.  Yes,  please  get  some  opium  at  the  apothe- 
cary's." 

"  Do  you  think  all  will  go  on  well  ?  "  asked  he.  "  God 
help  us !  "  he  added,  as  he  saw  his  horse  starting  from 
the  door ;  he  got  into  the  sledge  alongside  of  Kuzma, 
and  ordered  him  to  hurry  to  the  doctor's. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

The  doctor  was  not  yet  up ;  and  a  servant,  who  was 
busy  cleaning  the  lamps,  announced  that  his  master  had 
gone  to  bed  late,  and  had  given  orders  not  to  be  waked, 
but  would  be  up  before  long. 

The  lackey  was  polishing  lamp-chimneys  and  seemed 
very  much  absorbed  in  this  occupation.  At  first  this  ab- 
sorption of  the  lackey  in  his  lamp-chimneys,  and  his  in- 
difference to  what  was  going  on  at  home,  made  Levin 
indignant;  but  on  reflection  he  realized  that  no  one  knew 
anything  about  it  or  was  obliged  to  share  in  his  feelings, 
and  that  consequently  it  was  incumbent  on  him  to  be 
calm,  reasonable,  and  firm,  so  as  to  break  down  that 
wall  of  indifference,  and  attain  his  end. 

"  I  must  not  spoil  matters  by  haste,"  said  Levin  to 
himself,  feeling  all  the  time  a  growing  intensity  of 
physical  energy  and  concentration  on  what  was  before 
him. 

Now  that  he  knew  that  the  doctor  was  not  up,  and 
had  given  orders  not  to  be  disturbed.  Levin  thought 
over  several  plans  which  presented  themselves  to  him, 
and  finally  decided  on  the  following  :  to  send  Kuzma 
with  a  note  to  another  doctor,  to  go  himself  to  the  apothe- 
cary's for  the  laudanum,  and,  if  on  his  return  the  doctor 
was  not  up,  then  either  by  bribery  or  by  main  force,  if 
the  man  would  not  consent,  to  waken  the  doctor  at  any 
cost. 


262  ANNA    KARFNINA 

At  the  apothecary's,  the  lean  clerk,  with  the  same  in- 
difference as  the  lackey  cleaning  the  lamp-chimneys  had 
shown,  put  a  seal  on  the  powders  for  the  waiting  coach- 
man, and  refused  to  deliver  the  opium.  Striving  not  to 
get  impatient  or  angry,  and  mentioning  the  doctor  and 
midwife  by  name,  and  telling  what  it  was  needed  for. 
Levin  pleaded  with  him.  The  clerk  asked  his  employer 
in  German  if  it  should  be  permitted,  and,  receiving  a 
favorable  reply  from  behind  the  screen,  he  proceeded  to 
get  out  a  bottle  and  a  funnel,  and  slowly  poured  the 
liquid  from  it  into  a  smaller  vial,  pasted  on  a  label, 
sealed  it,  and  in  spite  of  Levin's  urgency  not  to  do  so, 
was  even  going  to  wrap  it  up.  This  Levin  could  not 
endure  ;  he  resolutely  snatched  the  vial  out  of  the  clerk's 
hands,  and  rushed  through  the  great  glass  doors. 

The  doctor  was  still  asleep ;  and,  this  time,  the  ser- 
vant was  shaking  the  rugs. 

Levin,  leisurely  getting  from  his  pocket  a  ten-ruble 
note,  and  dwelling  on  his  words,  but  not  wasting  time, 
gave  him  the  money,  and  explained  that  Piotr  Dmitri- 
evitch  —  how  great  and  significant  now  seemed  this 
hitherto  unimportant  Piotr  Dmitrievitch  —  had  prom- 
ised him  to  be  on  hand  at  any  time,  so  that  he  would 
certainly  not  be  angry,  and  that,  therefore,  he  must 
instantly  awaken  him. 

The  lackey  consented,  and  went  up-stairs  and  showed 
Levin  into  the  reception-room. 

Levin  could  hear  in  the  next  room  how  the  doctor 
coughed,  walked  about,  washed  his  face  and  hands,  and 
made  some  remark. 

Three  minutes  passed  ;  it  seemed  to  Levin  that  it 
was  more  than  an  hour.  He  could  no  longer  contain 
himself. 

"  Piotr  Dmitrievitch  !  Piotr  Dmitrievdtch  !  "  he  cried, 
through  the  opened  door,  in  a  beseeching  voice.  "  For 
God's  sake,  forgiv^e  me.  Let  me  come  in  just  as  you 
are.     It  has  been  more  than  two  hours  now." 

"  I  '11  be  out  immediately,"  replied  a  voice,  and  Levin 
to  his  surprise  knew  by  the  sound  of  the  doctor's  voice 
that  he  was  smiling  as  he  spoke. 


ANNA    KARENINA  263 

"Just  for  one  little  minute." 

"  I  '11  be  out  immediately." 

Two  minutes  more  went  by,  while  the  doctor  was 
putting  on  his  boots,  and  another  two  minutes  while  he 
was  brushing  his  hair  and  putting  on  his  coat. 

"  Piotr  Dmitrievitch,"  Levin  was  just  saying  once 
more ;  but  at  that  instant  the  doctor  came  in,  all  ready 
dressed  and  with  his  hair  brushed. 

"  These  people  have  no  hearts,"  thought  Levin.  "  He 
can  brush  his  hair,  while  we  are  dying." 

"  Good  morning!  "  said  the  doctor,  entering  the  recep- 
tion-room serenely,  and  offering  to  shake  hands.  "Don't 
feel  anxious.     Well,  how  is  it  ?  " 

Levin  begap  at  once  a  long  and  circumstantial  ac- 
count, filled  with  a  crowd  of  useless  details,  and  inter- 
rupted himself  at  every  moment  to  urge  the  doctor  to 
set  out. 

"  Yes,  but  you  must  not  be  anxious.  You  see  you 
don't  know.  I  really  am  not  needed  yet ;  still  I  have 
promised,  and  I  assure  you  I  '11  go.  But  there 's  no 
hurry.     Please  sit  down  ;  won't  you  have  some  coffee  .-^  " 

Levin  looked  at  him,  with  a  questioning  look,  asking 
with  his  eyes  if  he  were  not  laughing  at  him  ;  but  the 
doctor  was  in  serious  earnest. 

"I  know,  I  know,"  added  the  physician,  smiling;  "I 
myself  am  a  family  man,  and  we  husbands  cut  a  sorry 
figure  in  such  cases.  The  husband  of  one  of  my  pa- 
tients always,  on  such  occasions,  goes  off  to  the  stable." 

"But  do  you  think,  Piotr  Dmitrievitch,  —  do  you 
think  she  '11  get  on  well  ?  " 

"  All  the  indications  point  to  a  fortunate  issue." 

"Won't  you  come  at  once.-*"  said  Levin,  looking 
with  angry  eyes  at  the  servant  who  was  bringing  the 
coffee. 

"  Within  an  hour."  • 

"  For  God's  sake  !  " 

"Well,  let  me  take  my  coffee." 

The  doctor  proceeded  to  take  his  breakfast.  Both 
were  silent. 

"  It  seems  the  Turks  are  beating.     Did  you  read  the 


264  ANNA    KARENINA 

telegram  last  evening  ? "  asked  the  doctor,  biting  into 
a  roll. 

"  No  ;  but  I  'm  going,"  said  Levin.  "  Will  you  come 
in  a  quarter  of  an  hour? " 

"  Make  it  a  half." 

"  On  your  honor.''  " 

When  Levin  got  home,  he  found  the  princess  at  the 
door,  and  they  went  to  Kitty's  room  together.  The 
princess  had  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  her  hands  trembled. 
When  she  saw  Levin,  she  threw  her  arms  round  him, 
and  kissed  him. 

"  How  is  it,  Lizavyeta  Petrovna,  dearie,"  ^  said  she, 
seizing  the  midwife's  hand  as  she  came  to  meet  them 
with  a  radiant  but  solicitous  face. 

"  It  is  going  well,"  said  she.  "  It  would  be  well  for 
her  to  lie  down.  Try  to  persuade  her.  She  would  find 
it  easier." 

Ever  since  Levin,  on  waking,  had  understood  the 
situation,  he  had  made  up  his  mind,  without  indulging 
in  anxious  thought,  or  forebodings,  crushing  down  all 
his  anxieties  and  feelings,  firmly,  without  worrying  his 
wife,  but,  on  the  contrary,  calming  her  and  sustaining 
her  courage,  that  he  would  endure  what  was  before 
him.  Not  allowing  himself  even  to  think  of  what  was 
coming  or  how  it  might  end,  judging  by  answers  to 
his  questions,  how  long  it  generally  lasted.  Levin  in  his 
imagination  prepared  to  have  patience  and  hold  his 
heart  in  his  hands  for  five  hours,  and  this  seemed  to 
him  within  the  limit  of  possibility.  But  when  he  re- 
turned after  his  visit  to  the  doctor's,  and  found  Kitty 
still  suffering,  again  he  cried  more  and  more  frequently, 
"Lord,  forgive  us,  and  be  merciful!"  and  he  was  afraid 
that  he  could  not  endure  it,  so  terrible  was  it  to  him ; 
thus  an  hour  went  by. 

And  after  this  another  hous  passed,  and  a  second,  and 
a  third,  and  the  five  which  he  had  set  as  the  very  ulti- 
mate limit  of  his  endurance  ;  and  the  situation  was  still 
the  same,  and  still  he  was  enduring  the  suspense,  because 
there  was  nothing  else  to  do  except   endure,  thinking 

1  Dushenka,  little  soul. 


ANNA    KARENINA  265 

every  moment  that  he  had  reached  the  last  Hmit,  and 
that  his  heart  would  burst  with  his  agony.  But  the 
minutes  still  went  by,  hours  and  hours,  and  his  feelings 
of  agony  and  horror  kept  growing  worse  and  more  un- 
endurable. All  the  ordinary  conditions  of  life,  without 
which  it  is  impossible  to  take  cognizance  of  anything, 
ceased  to  exist  for  Levin.  He  lost  all  consciousness  of 
time.  Now  the  minutes  when  she  called  him  to  her  and 
he  held  her  moist  hand,  which  at  one  time  would  press 
his  with  extraordinary  force,  and  again  push  him  away, 
seemed  hours ;  then  again  the  hours  would  seem  to  him 
minutes. 

He  was  surprised  when  Lizavyeta  Petrovna  asked 
for  a  light,  and  he  learned  that  it  was  five  o'clock 
in  the  evening.  If  they  had  told  him  that  it  was  only 
ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  he  would  have  been  just  as 
much  surprised.  Where  the  time  had  gone,  what  he 
had  done,  where  he  had  been,  he  could  not  have  told. 
Sometimes  he  saw  Kitty's  flushed  face,  now  troubled 
and  piteous,  then  calm  and  almost  smiling,  as  she  tried 
to  reassure  him.  Then  he  saw  the  princess,  flushed  with 
anxiety,  her  gray  curls  in  disorder,  swallowing  down  her 
tears  and  biting  her  lips  to  keep  from  crying.  He  had 
also  seen  Dolly,  and  the  doctor  smoking  great  cigar- 
ettes, and  Lizavyeta  Petrovna,  with  a  calm,  serious,  but 
reassuring  look,  and  the  old  prince,  i3acing  the  dining- 
room  with  a  frowning  face.  But  how  they  came  and 
went,  and  where  they  had  been,  he  could  not  tell. 

The  princess  had  been  with  the  doctor  in  Kitty's  room, 
then  in  the  library,  where  a  well-set  table  had  appeared ; 
then  she  disappeared,  and  Dolly  was  in  her  place. 

Then  Levin  remembered  that  they  sent  him  somewhere  ; 
he  moved  a  divan  and  a  table  zealously,  thinking  it  was 
for  her  sake;  and  only  when  it  was  done  did  he  learn 
that  they  were  preparing  his  own  bed  for  the  night. 

He  was  sent  to  the  library  to  ask  the  doctor  some- 
thing ;  the  doctor  replied,  and  then  began  to  speak  of 
the  disorders  of  the  dunia,  or  town-council.  Then  they 
sent  him  to  the  princess's  bedchamber  to  get  a  holy 
image   made  of   silver,  with   a  golden   trimming,   from 


266  ANNA    KARENINA 

there ;  and,  with  the  aid  of  an  old  chambermaid  of  the 
princess's,  he  cHmbed  up  to  get  it  from  the  cabinet ; 
and,  in  doing  so,  broke  a  Httle  lamp,  and  the  old  woman 
consoled  him  for  this  accident,  and  encouraged  him  about 
his  wife.  And  he  had  carried  the  image  to  Kitty,  and 
placed  it  at  her  head,  carefully  arranging  it  behind  her 
pillow.  But  where,  when,  and  why  all  this  was  done 
was  more  than  he  could  tell. 

Neither  did  he  comprehend  why  the  old  princess  took 
him  by  the  hand,  and,  looking  at  him  compassionately, 
begged  him  to  calm  himself;  or  why  Dolly  tried  to  per- 
suade him  to  cat  something,  and  led  him  from  the  room  ; 
or  why  even  the  doctor  looked  at  him  gravely  and  sym- 
pathetically, and  offered  him  a  pill. 

He  knew  and  felt  conscious  only  that  what  was  occur- 
ring was  like  that  which  had  occurred  the  year  before  at 
the  hotel  of  the  government  city,  by  the  death-bed  of 
his  brother  Nikolai.  That  was  grief,  this  was  happiness. 
But  that  grief  and  this  happiness  were  in  the  same  way 
outside  of  the  ordinary  conditions  of  life;  were  in  this 
peculiar  life,  as  it  were,  the  loopholes  through  which 
appeared  something  higher.  And  in  exactly  the  same 
way,  while  the  hard,  painful  event  was  accomplishing 
before  him,  in  exactly  the  same  way  incomprehensible, 
his  soul,  at  the  contemplation  of  this  loftiness,  raised 
itself  to  a  height  which  he  had  never  before  dreamed 
possible,  and  whither  his  reason  could  not  follow. 

"  Lord,  have  mercy  and  aid  us,"  he  kept  repeating,  in 
spite  of  his  long  lack  of  practice,  and  yet  feeling  that  he 
was  addressing  God  with  the  same  simplicity,  the  same 
confidence,  as  in  his  childhood  and  early  youth.  All 
this  time  he  seemed  to  be  leading  two  separate  exis- 
tences ;  one  was  away  from  Kitty,  with  the  doctor  smok- 
ing one  fat  cigarette  after  another,  and  knocking  the 
ashes  off  against  the  rim  of  the  unemptied  ash-tray ;  or 
with  Dolly  and  the  old  princess,  who  insisted  on  talking 
about  dinner,  politics,  or  the  illness  of  Marya  Petrovna, 
and  with  whom  Levin  suddenly,  for  an  instant,  would 
forget  entirely  what  was  taking  place,  and  feel  wide 
awake ;  and  the  other  was  in  her  presence,  by  her  bed- 


ANNA    KARENINA  267 

side,  where  his  heart  felt  as  if  it  would  burst,  and  it 
almost  did  break  with  compassion,  and  where  he  did  not 
cease  to  pray  to  God. 

And  every  time  when  he  would  be  aroused  from 
momentary  oblivion  by  a  cry  coming  from  her  chamber, 
he  would  fall  under  the  same  strange  delusion  as  had  at 
the  first  moment  taken  possession  of  him  ;  every  time  he 
heard  the  cry  he  would  spring  to  his  feet,  hasten  to 
her  room,  and  on  the  way  remember  that  he  was  not  to 
blame,  and  would  long  to  protect  and  help.  And  as  he 
looked  on  her,  he  would  see  that  there  was  no  help  to 
be  given  her ;  and  again  the  pity  would  seize  him,  and 
he  would  pray,  "  Lord,  forgive  and  help  us !  " 

And  in  proportion  as  the  time  passed  by,  the  stronger 
became  the  two  conditions  of  mind,  —  he  would  be 
calmer  at  one  moment,  perfectly  oblivious  of  her,  while 
remaining  out  of  her  presence,  and  then  again  the  more 
painful  would  become  his  sympathetic  torments  and  the 
feehng  of  helplessness  before  them.  He  would  spring 
to  his  feet,  feel  the  impulse  to  escape  somew-here,  and 
hasten  to  her. 

Sometimes  when  she  would  keep  calling  for  him  he 
would  reproach  her ;  but,  seeing  her  submissive,  smiling 
face,  and  hearing  her  words,  "  I  have  tired  you  out,"  he 
would  reproach  God  ;  but,  remembering  what  God  was, 
he  would  beg  for  pardon  and  aid. 


CHAPTER   XV 

He  did  not  know  whether  it  was  late  or  early.  The 
candles  had  already  burned  down.  Dolly  had  just  come 
into  the  library,  and  was  proposing  to  the  doctor  to  lie 
down.  Levin  had  been  sitting  there  listening  to  the  doc- 
tor's story  of  the  charlatanry  of  magnetizers,  and  look- 
ing at  the  ash  at  the  end  of  his  cigarette.  It  was  one  of 
the  moments  of  rest,  and  he  was  oblivious.  He  had  en- 
tirely forgotten  what  was  taking  place.  He  listened  to 
the  doctor,  and  followed  him  understandingly. 

Suddenly  was  heard  a  cry  unlike    anything    he  had 


268  ANNA    KARENINA 

ever  heard.  This  cry  was  so  terrible  that  Levin  did 
not  even  stir,  but,  holding  his  breath,  he  looked  at  the 
doctor  with  eyes  full  of  questioning  terror. 

The  doctor  bent  his  head,  as  if  to  hear  better,  and 
smiled  with  an  air  of  approbation.  Levin  had  reached 
the  point  where  nothing  could  surprise  him ;  and  he 
said  inwardly,  "  Evidently  that  must  be  so ;  but  why 
that  cry .-' "  He  went  back  to  the  sick-room  on  tiptoe, 
passed  round  by  Lizavyeta  Petrovna  and  the  princess, 
and  stood  in  his  place  by  the  bedside.  The  cry  had 
ceased,  but  evidently  there  was  some  change.  What, 
he  did  not  know,  and  did  not  care  to  know.  But  he 
saw  it  by  the  grave  expression  of  Lizavyeta  Petrovna's 
pale  face.  Her  face  was  stern  and  pale,  and  just  as 
resolute  as  ever,  although  her  lower  jaw  trembled  a 
little.  Her  eyes  were  kept  steadily  fixed  on  Kitty. 
Her  flushed,  tortured  face,  with  the  little  tufts  of  hair 
clinging  to  it,  was  turned  toward  him,  and  her  eyes 
sought  his.  She  raised  her  hand  and  tried  to  take  his. 
When  once  she  had  got  hold  of  it,  she  tried  with  her 
moist  hand  to  press  it  to  her  forehead. 

"  Don't  go,  don't  go !  I  am  not  afraid,"  said  she, 
quickly.       "  Mamma,    take    away   my   ear-rings  ;    they 

annoy  me You  aren't  afraid  ? ....  Lizavyeta  Petrovna, 

quick,  quick  !  "  —  She  spoke  rapidly,  and  tried  to  smile  ; 
but  suddenly  her  face  grew  convulsed,  and  she  pushed 
him  away.  "This  is  terrible!  I  shall  die,  I  shall  die! 
go!  go  !  "     Then  came  the  same  unearthly  cry. 

Levin  seized  his  head  in  his  hands,  and  rushed  from 
the  room. 

"That  is  nothing;  all  is  going  well,"  said  Dolly,  fol- 
lowing after  him. 

But,  whatever  they  might  say,  he  knew  that  now  all 
was  lost !  Leaning  his  head  against  the  lintel,  he  stood 
in  the  adjoining  room  and  listened  to  screams  and 
moaning  —  such  sounds  as  he  had  never  heard  before, 
and  he  knew  that  what  was  making  such  animal-like 
noise  was  she  who  had  once  been  Kitty.  He  had  long 
ceased  to  care  about  the  child.  He  now  hated  that 
child.     He  even  went  so  far  as  not  to  wish  for  Kitty 


ANNA   KARENINA  269 

to  live,  provided  only  her  horrible  agonies  might  be 
ended. 

"  Doctor,  what  does  that  mean  ?  My  God  !  "  he  said, 
seizing  the  doctor's  arm  as  he  went  in. 

"  It  is  the  end,"  replied  the  doctor  ;  and  his  face  was 
so  serious,  as  he  said  this,  that  Levin  thought  he  meant 
that  Kitty  was  dead. 

Not  knowing  what  would  become  of  him,  he  went 
back  to  the  bedroom. 

What  he  first  saw  was  Lizavyeta  Petrovna's  face  ;  it 
was  even  more  than  before  portentous  and  stern.  It 
was  no  longer  Kitty's  face  that  was  there ;  in  the  place 
where  it  had  been  before,  there  was  something  terrible 
both  by  reason  of  the  agony  which  contracted  it,  and  by 
reason  of  the  sound  that  came  from  it.  He  bowed  his 
head  against  the  wooden  frame  of  the  bed,  feeling  that 
his  heart  would  burst.  The  awful  shriek  still  continued, 
it  grew  more  piercing  than  ever,  as  if  the  last  limit  of 
horror  had  been  reached.  Then  suddenly  the  shriek 
ceased.  He  could  not  believe  it,  but  he  could  not 
doubt;  and  he  heard  a  gentle  rustling  and  a  quick 
breathing,  and  his  wife's  living,  loving,  happy  voice 
whispered,  "  Kanetchna  —  It  is  over  !  " 

He  raised  his  head.  As  she  lay  there,  beautiful  with 
a  supernatural  beauty,  with  her  arms  nerv^elessly  resting 
on  the  counterpane,  she  looked  at  him,  and  tried  to 
smile  at  him,  but  could  not. 

Coming  suddenly  out  of  that  mysterious  and  terrible 
world  where  he  had  been  living  for  twenty-two  hours, 
Levin  felt  himself  transported  back  into  his  ordinary 
every-day  world  of  luminous  happiness,  and  he  could 
not  bear  it.  The  cords  long  tense  snapped.  He  burst 
into  tears  ;  and  the  sobs  of  joy  which  he  could  not  fore- 
see shook  his  whole  body  so  violently  that  he  could  not 
speak. 

He  knelt  beside  Kitty,  and  pressed  his  lips  on  her 
hand,  and  her  gentle  fingers  answered  his;  caress.  And 
meantime,  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  in  the  skilful  hands  of 
Lizavyeta  Petrovna,  like  the  small,  uncertain  flame  of  a 
lamp,  flickered  the  life  of   a  human  being,  which  just 


270  ANNA    KARENINA 

before  had  not  been,  and  which  with  every  right  and 
every  responsibiHty  would  live,  and  propagate  its  kind. 

"He  lives,  he  lives !  Yes,  it  is  a  boy !  Don't  be 
worried,"  Levin  heard  Lizavyeta's  voice  saying,  while 
with  a  trembhng  hand  she  slapped  the  little  one's  back, 

"  Mamma,  is  it  true  ?  "  asked  Kitty. 

And  the  princess's  sobs  answered  her.  , 

And  amid  the  silence,  hke  an  indubitable  answer  to 
the  young  mother's  questions,  was  heard  a  voice,  abso- 
lutely different  from  the  subdued  voices  speaking  in  the 
room.  It  was  the  bold,  decided,  imperious,  almost  im- 
pertinent cry  of  the  new  human  being,  which  had  come 
whence  no  one  knew. 

Just  before,  if  Levin  had  been  told  that  Kitty  was 
dead,  that  he  himself  had  died  with  her,  and  that  their 
children  were  angels,  and  that  they  were  all  in  the  pres- 
ence of  God,  he  would  not  have  been  surprised.  And 
now  that  he  had  come  back  to  reality,  it  took  a  prodig- 
ious effort  of  thought  to  comprehend  that  his  wife  was 
ahve,  that  she  was  doing  well,  and  that  this  desperately 
screeching  creature  was  his  son.  Kitty  was  saved,  her 
suffering  was  passed,  and  he  was  inexpressibly  happy. 
That  he  could  understand,  and  it  made  him  happy ;  but 
the  child  !  Whence.''  Why.?  What  was  it .?....  He  could 
not  wont  himself  to  the  thought  of  it.  It  seemed  to  him 
somehow  too  much,  too  overwhelming ;  and  it  was  long 
before  he  became  accustomed  to  it. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

The  old  Prince  Sergyef  Ivanovitch  and  Stepan  Arka- 
dyevitch  met  at  Levin's  the  next  morning,  about  ten 
o'clock,  and  after  they  talked  about  the  little  mother, 
they  began  to  converse  about  irrelevant  topics.  Levin 
listened  to  them,  and  involuntarily  remembering  what 
had  taken  place,  what  had  been  going  on  that  morning, 
he  also  remembered  what  he  himself  had  been  but  a 
few  hours  before. 

It  was  as  if  a  hundred  years  had  passed  since  then. 


ANNA    KARENINA 


271 


He  felt  that  he  was  on  some  unattainable  height  from 
which  he  endeavored  to  descend  to  their  level,  that  he 
might  not  offend  those  with  whom  he  was  talking.  While 
talking  about  indifferent  things,  he  was  thinking  of  his 
wife,  of  the  state  of  her  health,  and  of  his  son,  to  the 
idea  of  whose  existence  he  was  trying  to  accustom  him- 
self. The  whole  world  of  womanhood,  which  had  taken 
on  a  new  and  incomprehensible  significance  to  him,  even 
after  his  marriage,  occupied  such  a  lofty  place,  that  he 
could  not  begin  to  realize  it.  He  heard  the  men  talking 
about  their  dinner  at  the  club ;  but  he  was  thinking, 
"  What  is  she  doing  now .''  Is  she  asleep  .■'  How  is 
she .''  What  is  in  her  mind .''  Is  the  son  Dmitri  cry- 
ing.'*" And,  in  the  midst  of  the  conversation,  in  the 
midst  of  a  sentence,  he  sprang  up,  and  left  the  room. 

"  Send  word  down  if  I  may  see  her,"  said  the  old  prince. 

"Very  good....  I  will  at  once,"  replied  Levin,  and 
without  pausing  he  went  to  her  room. 

She  was  not  asleep,  but  was  softly  talking  with  her 
mother,  making  plans  about  the  christening. 

With  clean  clothes  and  with  her  hair  brushed,  she 
lay  comfortably  arranged  in  bed,  with  her  hands  rest- 
ing on  the  counterpane,  and  a  mob-cap  with  blue  rib- 
bons on  her  head,  and  as  her  eyes  met  his  she  drew 
him  to  her  by  their  look.  Her  face  lighted  up  more  and 
more  brightly  as  he  approached  her.  There  was  in  it 
that  change  from  the  earthly  to  the  superhuman  calm 
which  one  sees  in  death,  but,  instead  of  a  farewell,  she 
welcomed  him  to  a  new  life.  Again  an  emotion,  like 
that  which  he  had  felt  during  her  agony,  seized  his 
heart.  She  took  his  hand,  and  asked  him  if  he  had 
slept. 

He  could  not  answer,  but  turned  his  head  away,  yield-' 
ing  to  his  weakness. 

"  I  have  had  a  nap,  Kostia,"  she  said;  "  and  I  feel  so 
well  now." 

She  looked  at  him,  and  suddenly  the  expression  of 
her  face  changed.     She  heard  her  baby  cry. 

"  Give  him  to  me,  Lizavyeta  Petrovna,  and  let  me 
show  him  to  his  father,"  she  said. 


272 


ANNA    KARENINA 


"There,  now,  let  papa  look,"  said  Lizavyeta  Petrovna, 
taking  up  and  exhibiting  something  red,  strange,  and 
wobbling.  "  Wait,  we  must  change  it  first,"  and  Liza- 
vyeta Petrovna  deposited  this  red  and  wobbling  some- 
thing on  the  bed,  and  proceeded  to  unswathe  it  and 
then  swathe  it  again,  lifting  and  turning  it  over  with  one 
finger,  and  shaking  some  kind  of  powder  over  it. 

Levin,  as  he  looked  at  the  poor  little  bit  of  humanity, 
tried  in  vain  to  discover  within  his  soul  some  paternal  senti- 
ments toward  it.  His  only  feeling  was  one  of  repulsion  ; 
but  when  they  took  off  its  things,  and  he  saw  its  little  tiny 
delicate  arms  and  legs,  still  saffron-colored,  and  its  still 
tinier  fingers,  and  even  a  thumb  differentiated  from  the 
others,  and  when  he  saw  Lizavyeta  Petrovna  handling 
its  little,  waving  arms,  just  as  if  they  were  delicate 
springs,  and  putting  them  into  linen  garments,  such  pity 
seized  him,  and  such  terror  lest  she  should  hurt  it,  that 
he  made  a  gesture  to  stop  her. 

Lizavyeta  Petrovna  laughed. 

"  Never  fear,  never  fear,"  she  said. 

When  the  child  was  dressed,  and  metamorphosed  into 
a  regular  doll,  Lizavyeta  Petrovna  tossed  him  up  and 
down,  as  if  proud  of  her  work,  and  held  him  off  so  that 
Levin  might  see  his  son  in  all  his  beauty. 

Kitty,  not  taking  her  eyes  from  him,  was  alarmed. 

"  Give  him  to  me,  give  him  to  me,"  she  cried  ;  and 
she  even  hfted  herself  up. 

"  But,  Katerina  Aleksandrovna,  you  must  know  that 
any  such  motions  are  forbidden.  Be  patient ;  I  will 
give  him  to  you.  But  we  must  let  papasha  see  what  a 
fine  young  man  we  are." 

And  Lizavyeta  Petrovna  handed  to  Levin  with  one 
hand  —  the  other  supported  the  limp  occiput  —  this 
strange,  weak,  red  creature,  whose  head  fell  limply  on 
its  swaddling-clothes.  All  that  was  to  be  seen  of  it  was  a 
nose,  a  pair  of  eyes  that  looked  in  two  directions,  and 
smacking  lips. 

" Prekrasnui  rebyo7iok  —  a  splendid  baby,"  said  Liza- 
vyeta Petrovna. 

Levin    drew   a  deep    breath   of    mortification.      This 


ANNA    KARENINA  273 

splendid  baby  inspired  him  only  with  a  feeling  of  pity 
and  disgust.  It  was  not  at  all  the  feeling  that  he 
expected. 

He  turned  away  while  the  nurse  placed  it  in  Kitty's 
arms.  Suddenly  a  laugh  caused  him  to  raise  his  head. 
It  was  Kitty  who  laughed ;  the  baby  had  taken  the 
breast. 

"There!  that's  enough,  that's  enough,"  said  Liza- 
vyeta  Petrovna ;  but  Kitty  would  not  let  go  of  her  son, 
who  had  gone  to  sleep  on  her  arm. 

"  Look  at  him  now,"  said  she,  turning  the  child  so 
that  his  father  might  see  him.  The  little  old  face  sud- 
denly grew  still  more  wrinkled,  and  the  child  sneezed. 

Levin,  smiling  and  hardly  able  to  restrain  his  tears 
of  tenderness,  kissed  his  wife,  and  left  the  room. 

The  feelings  which  this  little  being  awakened  in  him 
were  entirely  different  from  what  he  had  expected ! 
There  was  neither  pride  nor  joy  in  the  feeling,  but 
rather  a  new  and  painful  fear.  It  was  the  consciousness 
that  he  had  become  vulnerable  in  a  new  way.  And  this 
consciousness  at  first  was  so  acute,  his  fear  lest  this  poor, 
defenseless  creature  might  suffer  was  so  poignant,  that 
it  drowned  the  strange  feeling  of  thoughtless  joy,  and 
even  pride,  that  rose  in  his  hearc  when  the  infant 
sneezed. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

The  affairs  of  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  had  reached  a 
critical  stage. 

The  money  brought  by  the  sale  of  two-thirds  of  the 
timber  had  long  ago  been  spent,  and  he  had  obtained 
from  the  merchant  at  a  discount  of  ten  per  cent  a  large 
part  of  the  remaining  third  in  advance.  Now  the  mer- 
chant would  not  advance  anything  more  ;  as  Dolly,  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life  asserting  her  rights  to  her  per- 
sonal property,  had  refused  her  signature  to  the  contract 
when  it  was  proposed  to  give  a  receipt  for  the  sale  of 
the  last  third  of  the  wood.     All  the  salary  was  used  up 

VOL.  111.  — 18 


274  ANNA    KARENINA 

for  household  expenses,  and  for  the  payment  of  unavoid- 
able debts.     There  was  absolutely  no  money  to  be  had. 

It  was  disagreeable  and  awkward,  and  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch  felt  that  it  ought  not  to  be  continued.  The  reason  of 
it,  in  his  opinion,  lay  in  the  fact  that  he  got  too  small  a 
salary.  The  place  which  he  held  had  been  very  good 
five  years  before,  but  it  was  so  no  longer.  Petrof,  the 
director  of  :i  bank,  got  twelve  thousand ;  Sventitsky,  a 
member  of  the  Council,  got  seventeen  thousand ;  Mitin, 
the  head  of  a  bank,  got  fifty  thousand. 

"Apparently  I  have  been  asleep,  and  they  have  for- 
gotten me,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  to  himself;  and 
he  began  to  keep  his  eyes  and  ears  open  ;  and  at  the 
end  of  the  winter  he  discovered  a  very  good  place,  and 
matured  his  attack  upon  it,  beginning  at  Moscow  through 
his  uncles,  his  aunts,  and  his  friends,  and  then,  when 
the  time  seemed  ripe  in  the  spring,  he  himself  went 
down  to  Petersburg. 

It  was  one  of  those  lucrative  sinecure  places  which 
nowadays  are  found,  varying  in  importance,  worth  any- 
where from  looo  to  50,000  rubles  a  year.  This  place 
was  in  the  Commission  of  the  Consolidated  Agency  for 
the  Mutual  Credit-Balance  of  the  Southern  Railway 
and  Banking  Establishments.  This  place,  like  all  such 
places,  required  at  once  such  varied  talents  and  such 
extraordinary  activity,  that  it  was  hard  to  find  them  united 
in  one  person ;  but  since  it  was  hopeless  to  find  any  one 
with  all  these  qualities,  it  was  certainly  better  that  the  man 
put  in  should  be  an  honest  rather  than  a  dishonest  man. 

Now  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  was  an  honest  man  in 
every  sense  of  the  term  ;  for  in  Moscow  the  word  cJiest- 
niii,  meaning  honest,  has  two  significations,  depending 
on  its  accent.  They  speak  of  an  honest  agent,  an  honest 
writer,  an  honest  journal,  an  honest  institution ;  and  it 
means  not  only  that  men  or  institutions  are  not  dishonest, 
but  that  they  know  how  to  adapt  themselves  to  circum- 
stances. Stepan  Arkadyevitch  belonged  in  Moscow  to 
that  class  of  people  who  used  that  convenient  word; 
and,  as  he  passed  for  honest,  he  therefore  felt  that  he 
had  a  better  right  than  any  one  else  to  that  place. 


ANNA    KARENINA 


275 


This  place  was  worth  from  7000  to  10,000  rubles  a 
year  ;  and  Oblonsky  could  accept  this  position,  and  not 
resign  his  present  duties.  Everything  depended  on  two 
ministers,  a  lady,  and  two  Jews ;  and,  although  they 
were  ready  to  grant  what  he  wished,  h6  had  to  go  to 
Petersburg  to  solicit  their  aid.  Moreover,  he  faithfully 
l)romised  Anna  that  he  would  obtain  from  Karcnin  a 
decisive  answer  about  the  divorce,  and,  having  extorted 
fifty  rubles  from  Dolly,  he  set  out  for  Petersburg. 

Sitting  in  Karenin's  library  and  listening  to  his  c.x- 
l)osition  of  a  project  for  reforming  the  status  of  Russian 
finance,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  waited  as  patiently  as  he 
could  till  he  might  put  in  a  word  about  his  personal 
affairs  and  about  Anna. 

"Yes!  That  is  very  true,"  said  he,  when  AlekseV 
Aleksandrovitch  took  off  the  pincc-}icz  without  which 
he  could  not  read  now,  and  looked  inquiringly  at  his 
brother-in-law  ;  "  that  is  very  true  in  detail ;  but  never- 
theless, the  leading  principle  of  our  age  is  liberty." 

"  Yes,  but  I  advocate  another  principle  which  embraces 
freedom,"  replied  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  accenting 
the  word  "  embraces,"  and  putting  on  his  pince-nez  to 
read  over  the  passage  where  he  had  said  that  very 
thing. 

And,  turning  over  the  pages  of  his  elegantly  written 
manuscript,  with  its  wide  margins,  he  again  read  the 
concluding  paragraph :  — 

"■ '  For  if  I  sustain  the  protectionist  system,  it  is  not 
for  the  advantage  of  private  individuals,  but  for  the 
general  good,  for  all  classes  alike,  both  low  and  high  ; ' 
and  it  is  that  which  they  will  not  understand,"  added 
he,  looking  over  h\s> pince-nez  at  Oblonsky,  "absorbed  as 
they  are  in  their  personal  interests,  and  so  easily  satisfied 
with  phrases." 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  knew  that  when  Karenin  began 
to  speak  of  what  was  said  and  done  by  those  who  were 
opposed  to  his  views,  and  who  were  the  source  of  all 
evil  in  Russia,  he  was  nearing  the  end ;  and  so  he  will- 
ingly renounced  his  "principle  of  liberty,"  and  agreed 
with  him.     Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  came  to  a  pause, 


276  ANNA    KARENINA 

and  turned  over  the  leaves  of  his  manuscript  with  a 
thoughtful  air. 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, "  I  wanted 
to  ask  you,  in  case  you  should  meet  Pomorsky,  to  say  a 
little  word  to  him  for  me  ;  that  I  should  very  much  like 
to  be  appointed  a  member  of  the  Commission  of  the 
Combined  Agencies  of  the  Mutual  Credit-Balance  of 
the  Railways  of  the  South."  To  Stepan  Arkadyevitch 
the  name  ^  of  this  position  which  was  so  dear  to  his 
heart  was  already  very  familiar,  and  he  could  rattle  it 
off  with  great  rapidity  and  without  making  a  mistake. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  asked  what  the  functions  of 
this  new  commission  were  to  be,  and  then  he  reflected. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  the  existence  of  this  commission 
was  directly  opposed  to  his  projects  of  reform.  But  as 
the  operations  of  this  commission  were  very  comj^Jicated, 
and  his  own  projects  of  reform  occupied  a  very  vast 
field,  he  felt  that  he  could  not  settle  this  question  at  a 
glance,  and,  taking  off  hh  puwr-uc::;,  he  said  :  — 

"  Without  doubt  I  could  speak  to  him  ;  but  why  are 
you  especially  desirous  to  have  this  place  .'* " 

"  The  salary  is  good,  —  nine  thousand  rubles,  —  and 
my  means ....  " 

"  Nine  thousand  rubles !  "  repeated  Aleksei  Aleksan- 
drovitch, and  he  frowned.  The  high  emolument  of  this 
position  reminded  him  that  Stepan  Arkadyevitch's  sup- 
posititious function  was  directly  opposed  to  the  principal 
feature  of  his  projects,  which  always  inclined  to  economy. 

"  I  believe,  and  I  show  in  my  pamphlet,  that  in  our 
day  these  enormous  salaries  are  signs  of  the  defective- 
ness of  the  economic  assiette  of  our  administration." 

"  Yes ;  but  what  would  you  have .'' "  said  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch.  "  Now  let  us  see  !  A  bank  director  gets 
ten  thousand,  he  is  worth  it ;  or  an  engineer  gets  twenty 
thousand.     These  are  not  sinecures." 

"  I  opine  that  salaries  are  payments  for  mercRSmdise, 
and  ought  to  be  subject  to  the  law  of  supply  and  demand. 
If  salaries  are  not  subject  to  this  law,  —  if,  for  example, 

1  Chlen  komissii  ol  soyedinennava  agenstva  krcdilno-vza'imnava  balansa 
yuzhno-zheleznuikh  dorog. 


ANNA    KARENINA  277 

I  see  two  engineers  of  equal  capacity,  having  pursued 
the  same  studies  at  the  institute,  one  receiving  forty 
thousand  rubles,  while  the  other  contents  himself  with 
two  thousand ;  or  if  I  see  a  hussar,  who  has  no  special 
knowledge,  become  director  of  a  bank  with  a  phenomenal 
salary,  I  conclude  that  these  salaries  are  fixed,  not  in 
accordance  with  the  law  of  supply  and  demand,  but  bv 
sheer  partiality.  And  so,  here  is  an  abuse,  great  in  itself 
and  disastrous  in  its  influence  on  the  imperial  service.  I 
opine ....  " 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  made  haste  to  interrupt  his 
brother-in-law  :  — 

"Yes,  but  you  agree  that  a  new  and  undoubtedly 
useful  institution  has  been  opened.  It's  a  live  thing, 
and  it  is  certainly  worth  while  to  have  it  conducted 
honestly,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  emphasizing  the 
adjective. 

But  the  Muscovite  signification  of  the  adjective  had 
no  force  for  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch. 

"  Honesty  is  only  negative  merit,"  he  replied. 

"  But  you  will  do  me  a  great  favor,  nevertheless,"  said 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  "  if  you  will  speak  a  little  word 

to  Pomorsky When  you   happen  to   meet  him,  you 

know." 

"Yes,  certainly  ;  but  it  seems  to  me  that  this  depends 
more  on  Bolgarinof,"  said  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch. 

"Bolgarinof  on  his  part  is  well  disposed,"  said  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch,  reddening.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  red- 
dened at  the  remembrance  of  Bolgarinof,  because  that 
very  morning  he  had  been  at  the  Jew's  house,  and  this 
visit  had  remained  as  an  unpleasant  recollection. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  knew  perfectly  well  that  the 
commission  of  which  he  wished  to  become  a  member 
was  a  new,  important,  and  honorable  enterprise ;  but 
thatmorning,  when  Bolgarinof,  evidently  with  malice 
p]gf/K^se,  kept  him  with  other  petitioners  waiting  in  his 
reception-room  for  two  hours,  the  whole  affair  became 
awkward  to  him. 

Whether  it  was  awkward  to  him  that  he,  a  descendant 
of  Rurik,  a  Prince  Oblpllli^y,  had  to  wait  two  hours  in 


278  ANNA    KARENINA 

the  Jew's  reception-room,  or  because  he,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  was  not  following  the  example  of  his 
ancestors  in  serving  the  government,  but  had  got  into  a 
new  field,  at  all  events  it  was  awkward. 

During  these  two  hours  of  waiting  at  Bolgarinof's, 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  briskly  walking  up  and  down 
through  the  reception-room,  smoothing  his  side  whiskers, 
occasionally  entering  into  conversation  with  the  other 
petitioners,  and  trying  to  work  out  a  pun  on  his  long 
waiting  at  the  Jew's,  diligently  concealed  from  the 
others,  and  also  from  himself,  the  trying  feeling!  But 
all  that  time  he  felt  awkward  and  annoyed,  he  did  not 
know  why ;  it  was  either  because  he  had  not  succeeded 
very  well  with  his  pun  on  the  word  Jew — how  he  had 
to  chew  1  on  the  cud  of  expectation  —  or  for  some  other 
reason. 

When  at  last  Bolgarinof,  with  excessive  humility,  re- 
ceived him,  evidently  triumphing  in  his  humiliation,  and 
almost  refused  his  request,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  made 
haste  to  forget  it  all.  But  now,  remembering  it  again, 
he  reddened  with  shame. 

CHAPTER   XVIII 

"  Now,  I  have  yet  one  more  thing  to  talk  over  with 
you ;  and  you  know  what  it  is  about,  —  Anna,"  said 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  after  a  moment's  silence,  and 
shaking  off  these  disagreeable  memories. 

When  Oblonsky  spoke  Anna's  name,  Karenin's  face 
entirely  changed ;  in  place  of  its  former  vivacity  it  took 
on  an  expression  of  corpse-like  rigidity  and  weariness. 

"What  more  do  you  want  of  me?"  said  he,  turning 
about  on  his  arm-chair,  and  shutting  his  pince-nea. 

"  A  decision  ....  some  sort  of  a  decision,  Aleksei  Alek- 
sandrovitch.  I  address  you,  not  as....  "  he  was  going  to 
say  "  a  deceived  husband,"  but  fearing  it  might  hurt  his 
cause  he  stopped,  and  substituted  with  little  appropriate- 
ness, "not  as  a  statesman,  but  simply  as  a  man,  and  a  good 
man  and  a  Christian.     You  ought  to  have  pity  on  her." 

1  "  Builo  dyclo  do-Zhida  i  ya  dozhida-Xiia..^^ 


ANNA    KARENINA 


279 


"In  what  way  could  I,  properly?"  asked  Karenin, 
quietly. 

"  Yes,  have  pity  upon  her.  If  you  saw  her  as  I  do,  — 
I  have  seen  her  all  winter,  —  you  would  pity  her.  Her 
position  is  cruel." 

"  I  thought,"  said  Karenin,  suddenly,  in  a  piercing, 
almost  whining  voice,  "  that  Anna  Arkadyevna  had 
obtained  all  that  she  wished." 

"  Oh!  AlekseT  Aleksandrovitch,  for  God's  sake,  let  us 
not  make  recriminations.  What  is  past  is  past ;  and 
you  know  what  she  is  now  waiting  for  and  hoping  for  is 
....  the  divorce." 

"  But  I  understood,  that  in  case  I  kept  my  .son,  Anna 
Arkadyevna  refused  the  divorce  ;  and  so  my  silence  was 
equivalent  to  a  reply,  and  I  thought  the  question  settled. 
I  consider  it  settled,"  said  he,  with  more  and  more 
warmth. 

"  For  God's  sake  don't  get  angry,"  said  Stepan  Arka- 
dyevitch,  touching  his  brother-in-law's  knee.  "  This 
question  is  not  settled.  If  you  will  allow  me  to  recapit- 
ulate, the  affair  stands  thus  :  When  you  separated,  you 
were  as  great,  as  magnanimous,  as  was  possible  to  be. 
You  granted  her  everything ....  her  freedom,  even  a 
divorce  if  she  wanted  one.  She  appreciated  it.  No, 
you  don't  think  so  ;  but  she  appreciated  it  absolutely,  — 
to  such  a  degree  that,  at  first,  feeling  her  guilt  toward 
you,  she  did  not,  she  could  not,  reason  about  it  at  all. 
She  refused  everything.  But  the  reality  and  time  have 
shown  her  that  her  position  is  painful  and  intoler- 
able." 

"Anna  Arkadyevna's  life  cannot  interest  me,"  said 
Karenin,  raising  his  eyebrows. 

"  Permit  me  to  disbelieve  that,"  replied  Stepan  Arka- 
dyevitch,  gently.  "  Her  position  is  painful  to  her,  and 
without  any  escape  whatever.  She  deserves  it,  you  say. 
She  acknowledges  that,  and  does  not  complain.  She 
says  up  and  down  that  she  should  never  dare  to  ask 
anything  of  you.  But  I,  and  all  of  her  relatives,  all  who 
love  her,  beg  and  implore  )ou  to  have  pity  on  her. 
Why  should  she  suffer.^     Whose  advantage  is  it.?  " 


28o  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  Excuse  me ;  you  seem  to  accuse  me  of  being  to 
blame."  .... 

"  Oh !  not  at  all,  not  at  all,  understand  me,"  said 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  touching  Karenin's  arm,  as  if  he 
believed  that  personal  contact  would  have  a  mollifying 
effect  on  his  brother-in-law.  "  I  merely  say  this.  Her 
position  is  painful ;  and  you  can  relieve  it,  and  it  will 
not  cost  you  anything.  I  will  so  arrange  the  matter 
that  you  shall  have  no  trouble  about  it.  Besides,  you 
have  promised." 

"  My  consent  has  been  already  given ;  and  I  had 
supposed  that  the  question  of  our  son  had  decided  the 
matter.  Besides,  I  hoped  that  Anna  Arkadyevna  would 
in  her  turn  have  the  generosity  to  understand  ...."  his 
trembling  lips  could  hardly  utter  the  words,  and  he 
turned  pale. 

"  She  leaves  all  to  your  magnanimity.  She  asks,  she 
implores,  for  only  one  thing  —  to  be  relieved  from  this 
unendurable  position  in  which  she  finds  herself.  She 
asks  for  her  son.  Aleksef  Aleksandrovitch,  you  are  a 
good  man.  Just  enter  for  a  moment  into  her  feelings. 
The  question  of  the  divorce  is  for  her  a  matter  of  life  or 
death.  If  you  had  not  given  your  promise,  she  would 
have  been  resigned  to  her  situation,  and  lived  in  the 
country.  But  you  did  give  your  promise ;  and  she 
wrote  you,  and  came  to  Moscow.  And  there  in  Mos- 
cow, where  every  familiar  face  was  a  knife  in  her  heart, 
she  has  been  living  for  six  months,  every  day  expect- 
ing an  answer.  Her  situation  is  that  of  a  condemned 
criminal,  who  for  months  has  had  the  rope  around  his 
neck,  and  does  not  know  whether  he  is  to  expect  par- 
don or  execution.  Pity  her  ;  and,  besides,  I  will  take 
care  to  arrange  all ....  vos  scrupu/csy  .... 

"I  am  not  speaking  of  that,  not  of  that...."  said 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  with  some  disgust;  "but  per- 
haps I  promised  more  than  I  had  the  right  to  promise." 

"  Then,  you  refuse  to  do  what  you  have  promised  ?  "  .... 

"  I  never  refused  to  do  all  that  I  could  ;  but  I  must 
have  time  to  consider  how  far  what  I  promised  is  per- 
missible." 


ANNA    KARENINA 


a«i 


"  No,  AlekscV  Aleksandrovitch,"  said  Oblonsky,  leaf)- 
ing  to  his  feet,  "T  do  not  wish  to  believe  this.  She  is 
as  unhappy  as  it  is  possible  for  a  woman  to  be;  and 
you  cannot  refuse  such  ...." 

"  How  far  what  I  promised  is  jiermissible  ?  Fo/fS 
profcssez  d'etre  lui  libre  penscur;  but  I,  as  a  believer, 
cannot  defy  the  law  of  Christianity  in  a  matter  so 
important." 

"  But  in  Christian  communities,  and  here  in  Russia, 
divorce  is  permitted,"  said  Stepan  Arkadycvitch.  "  Di- 
vorce is  permitted  by  our  Church,  and  we  sec ...." 

"  Permitted,  but  not  in  this  sense." 

"  Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch,  I  don't  know  you,"  said 
Oblonsky,  after  a  moment's  silence.  "  You  arc  not  the 
same  man  you  were.  Did  you  not  forgive  all  .''....and  did 
we  not  appreciate  your  magnanimity  .•'....  were  you  not 
moved  by  genuine  Christian  feeling .-'  Were  n't  you 
ready  to  sacrifice  everything  t  You  yourself  said,  '  If 
any  man  will  take  away  thy  coat,  let  him  have  thy  cloak 
also.'     And  now ...." 

"  I  beg  of  you,"  said  Karenin,  rising  suddenly,  and 
turning  pale,  and  with  a  trembling  jaw,  "  I  beg  of  you,"^ 
he  said,  in  a  high-pitched  voice,  "  to  cut  short,  to  cut 
short  this  conversation  !  " 

"  Oh,  well,  pardon  me,  pardon  me,  if  I  have  offended 
you !  "  said  Stepan  Arkadycvitch,  in  confusion,  holding 
out  his  hand ;  "  but  I  had  to  fulfil  the  mission  I  was 
charged  with." 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  gave  him  his  hand,  and  said, 
after  a  moment's  reflection  :  — 

"  I  must  have  time  to  think  about  it,  and  seek  for 
light.  You  shall  have  my  final  answer  day  after  to- 
morrow." 

CHAPTER   XIX 

Stepan  Arkadvevitch  was  going  out,  when  Kornef 
came  in,  and  announced,  "  Sergyei  Alekseyevitch." 

"Who  is  Sergyei  Alekseyevitch.^"  Oblonsky  began 
to  ask,  but  in  an  instant  he  remembered. 


28a  ANNA   KARENINA 

"  Oh,  Serozha  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  and  here  was  I, 
thinking  it  was  some  dircktor  of  a  department,"  he  said 
to  himself.     "  Anna  begged  me  to  see  him." 

And  he  recalled  the  sad,  timid  expression  with  which, 
as  he  left  her,  Anna  had  said  to  him,  "  You  will  see 
him,  and  can  find  out  what  he  is  doing,  and  where  he  is, 
and  who  is  taking  care  of  him.  And,  Stiva....if  possi- 
ble !     Would  it  be  possible  V  .... 

He  knew  what  she  meant  by  the  words,  "  if  possible  "  ; 
if  it  were  possible  to  get  the  divorce,  so  as  to  have  her 
son.  But  now  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  knew  that  this  was 
out  of  the  question.  He  was  none  the  less  glad  to  see 
his  nephew  again. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  reminded  his  brother-in-law 
that  he  must  not  talk  to  him  of  his  mother,  and  begged 
him  not  even  by  a  word  to  remind  him  of  her. 

"  He  was  very  ill  after  that  interview  with  his  mother, 
which  we  were  not  prepared  for,"  said  Aleksei  Aleksan- 
drovitch, "  and  for  a  while  we  feared  for  his  life.  But 
sensible  medical  treatment  and  sea-bathing  in  the  sum- 
mer restored  him  to  health,  and  I  have  followed  the 
doctor's  advice,  and  sent  him  to  school.  Activity,  being 
with  companions  of  his  own  age,  have  had  a  happy  influ- 
ence on  him ;  his  health  is  good,  and  he  is  studying 
well." 

"  Why,  he  's  become  quite  a  young  man !  he  is  no  longer 
Serozha ;  he  is  full-grown  Sergyei  Alekseyevitch,"  said 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  with  a  smile,  as  a  handsome,  tall, 
robust  boy,  dressed  in  a  kiirtotchka,  or  jacket,  and  long 
trousers,  came  in  briskly  and  without  constraint.  The  boy 
had  a  look  of  sound  health  and  good  spirits.  He  bowed 
to  his  uncle  as  to  a  stranger.  Then,  as  he  remembered 
him,  he  reddened,  and,  as  if  offended  and  angry  at  some- 
thing, turned  away,  and  handed  his  school  report  to  his 
father. 

"  Well,  that  is  excellent,"  said  Karenin ;  "  now  you 
may  go  and  play." 

"  He  has  grown  tall  and  slender,  and  lost  his  childish 
look  and  become  a  real  boy  ;  I  like  it,"  remarked  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch,  with  a  smile.     "  Do  you  remember  me  .'*  " 


ANNA    KARENINA  283 

The  boy  quickly  glanced  at  his  father. 

"  I  remember  you,  monoiiclc,'"  answered  the  boy,  look- 
ing at  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  and  then  casting  down  his 
eyes. 

The  uncle  called  the  lad  to  him,  and  took  his  hand. 
"Well,  how  are  you?"  he  asked,  wanting  to  talk,  but 
not  knowing  what  to  say. 

The  boy,  blushing,  and  not  answering,  hastily  with- 
drew his  hand,  and,  as  soon  as  his  uncle  had  released  it, 
flew  away  like  a  bird  set  free. 

A  year  had  passed  since  Serozha  had  seen  his  mother 
for  the  last  time.  During  this  time  he  had  not  even 
heard  anything  about  her.  He  had  been  sent  to  school, 
and  had  become  acquainted  with  boys  of  his  own  age, 
and  learned  to  like  them.  His  dreams  and  recollections 
about  his  mother,  which  after  his  interview  with  her  had 
made  him  ill,  now  no  longer  occupied  his  mind.  When 
they  recurred  to  him  he  even  tried  to  get  rid  of  them, 
regarding  them  as  disgraceful  for  a  boy  and  fit  only 
for  girls ;  he  knew  that  his  parents  had  quarreled  and 
parted,  and  that  he  must  accustom  himself  to  the  idea  of 
remaining  with  his  father. 

The  sight  of  his  uncle,  who  looked  like  his  mother, 
was  unpleasant  to  him,  because  it  awakened  memories 
which  caused  him  shame  ;  and  it  was  still  more  unpleas- 
ant, because,  from  certain  words  which  he  had  caught 
as  he  entered  the  door,  and  by  the  peculiar  expression 
of  his  father's  and  his  uncle's  faces,  he  knew  that  they 
were  talking  about  his  mother.  And  so  as  not  to  blame 
his  father,  with  whom  he  lived  and  on  whom  he  was 
dependent,  and  especially  so  as  not  to  give  way  to  a  sen- 
timent which  he  felt  was  too  degrading,  he  tried  not  to 
look  at  his  uncle,  who  had  come  to  disturb  his  tranquil- 
lity, and  not  to  think  of  the  past. 

But  when,  shortly  after,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  went 
out,  he  found  the  boy  on  the  stairs,  and  he  called  him  to 
him,  and  asked  him  how  he  spent  his  spare  time,  now 
that  he  was  at  school.  Serozha,  out  of  his  father's  pres- 
ence, talked  freely. 

"We  have  a  railroad  now,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  his 


284  ANNA    KARENINA 

question.  "  Just  see  !  These  two  are  sitting  on  the 
seat;  they  are  passengers;  and  there  is  one  man  trying 
to  stand  on  the  seat ;  and  they  are  all  going,  and  by 
means  of  our  arms  and  our  belts  we  go  through  the 
whole  length  of  the  hall,  and  the  doors  open  in  front. 
And  I  tell  you  it's  very  hard  here  for  the  conductor." 

"  Is  that  the  one  standing  ?  "  asked  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch,  amused. 

"  Yes.  He  has  to  be  bold  and  skilful,  because  the 
train  comes  to  a  very  sudden  stop,  and  he  might  get 
thrown  over." 

"  Well,  that  is  no  joke,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, 
sadly,  as  he  looked  at  the  boy's  bright  eyes,  which  were 
like  his  mother's,  and  which  had  already  lost  their  child- 
ish look  of  innocence.  And,  although  he  had  promised 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  not  to  speak  of  Anna,  he  could 
not  resist. 

"  Do  you  remember  your  mother  ? "  he  asked  suddenly. 

"No,  I  do  not,"  Serozha  answered  quickly,  turning 
red  ;  and  his  uncle  could  not  make  him  talk  any  more. 

When  the  Russian  tutor  found  Serozha  on  the  stairs, 
half  an  hour  after,  he  could  not  make  out  whether  he 
was  crying  or  was  sulky. 

"  Did  you  hurt  yourself  when  you  fell .'' "  he  asked. 
"  I  said  this  was  a  dangerous  game,  and  I  shall  have  to 
tell  your  father .''  " 

"  If  I  had,  no  one  should  find  it  out,"  answered  the  boy. 

"  Well,  what 's  the  matter,  then  ?  " 

"Let  me  alone !....  What  is  it  to  him  whether  I 
remember  or  not  ? ....  Why  did  he  remind  me  .'' ....  Let  me 
be. ...".and  the  boy  seemed  to  defy  not  only  his  tutor, 
but  the  whole  world. 

CHAPTER   XX 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  as  usual,  did  not  waste  his 
time  at  Petersburg.  He  had  not  only  his  business  to 
attend  to  :  his  sister's  divorce  and  his  new  position  to 
look  after ;  but,  moreover,  as  he  said,  to  refresh  himself 
after  musty  Moscow. 


ANNA    KARENINA  285 

For  Moscow,  in  spite  of  its  cafes-chantants,  and  its 
omnibuses,  was  still  only  a  stagnant  marsh.  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch  always  felt  that  this  was  so.  Living  in 
Moscow,  especially  in  proximity  to  his  family,  he  was 
conscious  that  his  spirit  flagged.  When  his  life  in 
Moscow  was  long  unbroken  by  a  trip  to  Petersburg, 
he  even  began  to  be  annoyed  by  his  wife's  bad  temper 
and  reproaches,  and  to  worry  over  his  health,  the  educa- 
tion of  his  children,  and  the  petty  details  of  the  house- 
hold. He  even  went  so  far  as  to  be  disturbed  about  his 
debts. 

As  soon  as  he  set  foot  in  Petersburg,  and  entered 
that  circle  where  life  was  really  life,  and  not  vegetat- 
ing, as  in  Moscow,  immediately  all  such  thoughts  dis- ' 
appeared  like  wax  in  the  fire. 

His  wife .''....  He  had  just  been  talking  with  Prince 
Chetchensky.  Prince  Chetchensky  had  a  wife  and  fam- 
ily, —  grown-up  boys,  pages  now  ;  and  he  had  another 
establishment,  outside  the  law,  and  in  this  also  there 
were  children.  But,  though  the  first  family  was  well 
enough  in  its  way,  Prince  Chetchensky  felt  happier 
with  his  second  family ;  and  he  had  introduced  his  old- 
est legitimate  son  into  his  other  family ;  he  told  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch  he  considered  it  a  good  way  to  train  him 
and  develop  him.  What  would  have  been  said  about 
that  in  Moscow } 

Children  .''  In  Petersburg,  fathers  did  n't  trouble  them- 
selves with  their  children.  Children  were  educated  in 
institutions,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  that  crazy  notion 
in  vogue  in  Moscow  —  Lvof  shared  in  it  —  that  children 
should  have  all  the  luxuries,  and  their  parents  nothing 
but  care  and  trouble. 

The  government  service .''  The  service,  too,  was  not 
that  tiresome,  hopeless  treadmill  that  it  was  in  Mos- 
cow. Here  there  was  interest  in  the  service.  Meetings 
with  men  in  authority,  mutual  services,  opportune  words 
spoken,  the  knowledge  of  how  to  take  advantage  of 
chances — -and  a  man  might  suddenly  find  himself  high 
in  his  career,  like  Brianzef,  whom  Stepan  Arkadyevitch 
met  that  evening,  and  who  was  now  a  leading  dignitar\' 


286  ANNA    KARENINA 

Yes,  there  was  something  interesting  in  the  service 
here. 

The  Petersburg  views  about  money  especially  ap- 
pealed to  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 

Bartnyansky,  who  now  spent  at  least  fifty  thousand 
rubles,  judging  by  the  rate  at  which  he  was  living,  made 
a  remark  which  deeply  impressed  him.  Just  before 
dinner,  as  they  were  talking  together,  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch had  said  :  — 

"  You  seem  to  have  some  connection  with  Mordvinsky. 
You  might  do  me  a  favor ;  please  say  a  little  word  to 
him  in  my  behalf.  It  is  a  place  which  I  should  like  to 
have,  member  of  the  commission."  .... 

"Well,  I  won't  forget Only  what  pleasure  can  you 

have  in  attending  to  this  railroad  business  with  the 
Jews .''....  Of  course,  if  you  want  it;  but  still  it's  a 
wretched  business." 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  did  not  say  to  him  that  it  was 
"no  sinecure."  Bartnyansky  would  not  have  known 
what  he  meant. 

"  I  need  money ;  I  must  have  something  to  live  on." 

"  But  don't  you  live,  then  ?  " 

"Yes,  but  in  debt." 

"  Much  .-*  "  asked  Bartnyansky,  sympathetically. 

"Yes;  twenty  thousand  rubles." 

Bartnyansky  broke  out  into  a  gay  laugh. 

"  Oh,  happy  man  !  I  have  a  million  and  a  half  of 
debts,  and  not  a  ruble  ;  and,  as  you  see,  I  live  all  the  same." 

And  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  saw  that  this  was  not  mere 
words,  but  was  actually  true.  Zhivakhof  was  in  debt 
three  hundred  thousand,  and  had  not  a  kopek.  Petrov- 
sky  had  spent  five  millions,  and  yet  he  went  on  living 
just  as  before,  and  had  charge  of  the  finances,  and  had 
only  twenty  thousand  salary. 

Petersburg  had  a  delightful  physical  influence  on 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch.  It  made  him  feel  younger.  In 
Moscow  he  sometimes  detected  gray  hairs,  he  would 
fall  asleep  after  dinner,  it  made  him  breathe  hard  to  go 
up-stairs,  he  was  dull  in  the  company  of  young  women, 
he  no  long:er  danced  at  balls. 


ANNA    KARENINA  287 

At  Petersburg  he  experienced  what  the  sixty-year-old 
Prince  Piotr  Oblonsky,  who  had  just  returned  from 
abroad,  told  him  one  evening  :  — 

"We  don't  know  how  to  live  here,"  said  Piotr  Oblon- 
sky. "  For  example,  I  spent  the  summer  at  Baden, 
and  now,  honestly,  I  feel  like  a  new  man.  I  see  a 
young  woman,  and ....  I  enjoy  my  dinner,  I  can  take  my 
wine  ;  I  'm  well  and  vigorous.  When  I  come  back  to 
Russia,  I  have  to  see  my  wife,  have  even  to  go  into  the 
country.  You  would  n't  believe  it,  but  in  a  couple  of 
weeks  I  am  in  my  dressing-gown.  Good-by  to  the 
young  beauties.  I  am  old,  think  only  of  the  salvation 
of  my  soul.     To  make  me  over,  I  go  to  Paris." 

Stepan  Arkady evitch  felt  the  same  difference  as  Piotr 
Oblonsky  did.  In  Moscow  he  reached  such  a  low  ebb 
of  vitality  that  he  felt  sure  that,  if  he  ever  attained  the 
same  age,  he  too  should  be  driven  to  thinking  about  the 
salvation  of  his  soul ;  in  Petersburg  he  was  conscious  of 
being  a  well-regulated  man. 

Between  the  Princess  Betsy  Tversky  and  Stepan  Arka- 
dyevitch  there  had  been  for  a  long  time  a  very  strange 
relationship.  He  always  jested  with  her,  and  he  always 
said  very  improper  things  by  way  of  jest,  knowing  that 
they  pleased  her  more  than  anything  else.  The  day 
after  his  interview  with  Karenin,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch 
went  to  see  her  ;  and,  feeling  particularly  young,  he  con- 
ducted himself  with  more  than  his  usual  levity  ;  and 
went  so  far  in  his  impropriety  that  he  could  not  retrieve 
his  steps,  and,  unfortunately,  he  felt  that  she  was  not 
only  displeased,  but  was  even  opposed  to  him.  Yet  this 
tone  had  been  established  because  it  generally  amused 
her.  So  he  was  glad  to  have  the  Princess  Miagkaya 
interrupt  their  tete-a-tete.  • 

"Ah,  here  you  are ! "  said  she,  when  she  saw  him.  "Well ! 
and  how  is  your  poor  sister  }  Do  not  look  at  me  so.  Since 
women  who  are  a  thousand  times  worse  than  she  throw 
stones  at  her,  I  think  she  did  quite  right.  I  can't  forgive 
Vronsky  for  not  letting  me  know  that  she  was  in  Peters- 
burg. I  should  have  gone  to  see  her,  and  gone  with  her 
everywhere.     Give  her  my  love.     Now  tell  me  about  her." 


288  ANNA    KARENINA 

"Well!  her  position  is  a  very  painful  one;  she...." 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch  began,  in  the  simplicity  of  his 
heart,  taking  the  princess's  words  as  genuine  money, 
when  she  said,  "Tell  me  about  your  sister."  But  the 
princess,  in  her  usual  way,  interrupted  him,  and  began 
to  talk  herself.  "She  did  what  everybody  but  myself 
does  and  hides.  But  she  was  not  willing  to  lie,  and  she 
did  right;  and  she  has  at  least  bettered  herself  in  havifig 
forsaken  that  imbecile,  —  I  beg  your  pardon,  —  your 
brother-in-law.  Everybody  said  he  was  a  genius.  A 
genius !  I  was  the  only  one  who  said  he  was  a  goose  ; 
and  people  have  come  to  be  of  my  opinion,  now  that  he 
has  taken  up  with  the  Countess  Lidia  and  Landau.  I 
should  like  not  to  agree  with  everybody ....  it 's  stupid; 
but  this  time  I  can't  help  it." 

"  Now  please  explain  something  to  me,"  said  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch.  "  What  does  this  mean  ?  Yesterday  I 
was  at  his  house,  talking  of  the  divorce,  and  I  asked 
him  for  a  definite  answer ;  my  brother-in-law  said  to  me 
that  he  could  not  give  me  an  answer  without  reflection ; 
and  this  morning  I  received  an  invitation  from  Lidia 
Ivanovna  for  this  evening  instead  of  an  answer." 

"  Now !  That 's  just  it !  "  cried  the  princess,  delighted. 
"They  will  consult  Landau  as  to  what  to  say." 

"Why  Landau.'*  who  is  Landau  .-' " 

"What!  you  don't  know  Jules  Landau .... /^ /(7;«^;/,r 
Jules  Landau,  /e  clairvoyant'?  He  also  in  my  opinion 
is  an  imbecile,  but  on  him  depends  your  sister's  fate. 
That 's  what  comes  of  living  in  the  provinces.  Landau, 
you  must  know,  was  comniis  of  a  mercantile  house  at 
Paris,  and  went  to  see  a  doctor.  He  fell  asleep  in  the 
waiting-room,  and,  while  he  was  asleep,  gave  advice  to 
all  the  sick ....  most  astonishing  advice.  Then  Yuri 
Melyedinsky's  wife — you  know  he  was  sick  —  called 
him  to  see  her  husband.  He  treated  her  husband.  In 
my  opinion,  he  did  n't  do  him  any  good,  for  Melyedinsky 
is  just  as  sick  as  he  was  before;  but  his  wife  and  he 
believe  in  Landau.  They  took  him  into  their  house, 
and  they  brought  him  to  Russia.  Naturally,  people 
here  have  thrown  themselves  at  him.     He  treats  every- 


ANNA    KARENINA  289 

body.  He  cured  the  Countess  Bezzubof,  and  she  fell  so 
in  love  with  him  that  she  has  adopted  him." 

"How!  adopted  him .'' " 

"  Yes,  adopted  him.  He  is  n't  Landau  any  more,  but 
Count  Bezzubof.  But  Lidia  —  and  I  like  her  very  much, 
in  spite  of  her  crankiness — must  needs  be  smitten  with 
him  ;  and  nothing  that  she  and  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch 
take  up  is  decided  without  consulting  him.  Your  sister's 
fate  is,  therefore,  in  the  hands  of  this  Count  Bezzubof, 
alias  Landau." 


CHAPTER   XXI 

After  an  excellent  dinner  with  Bartnyansky,  and 
considerable  cognac,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  went  to  the 
Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna's  a  little  later  than  the  hour 
designated. 

"Who  is  with  the  countess.''....  the  Frenchman  .'' "  he 
asked  of  the  Swiss,  as  he  noticed  beside  Aleksei  Alek- 
sandrovitch's  well-known  overcoat  a  curious  mantle  with 
clasps. 

"Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  Karenin  and  the  Count 
Bezzubof,"  answered  the  servant,  stolidly. 

"  Princess  Miagkaya  was  right,"  thought  Oblonsky, 
as  he  went  up-stairs.  "Strange!  it  would  be  a  good 
thing  to  cultivate  the  countess.  She  has  great  influ- 
ence. If  she  would  say  a  little  word  in  my  behalf  to 
Pomorsky,  it  would  be  just  the  thing." 

It  was  still  very  light  outdoors,  but  the  blinds  were 
drawn  in  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna's  little  drawing- 
room,  and  the  lamps  were  lighted. 

At  a  round  table,  on  which  was  a  lamp,  the  countess 
and  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  were  sitting,  engaged  in  a 
confidential  talk.  A  short,  lean,  pale  man,  with  knock- 
kneed  legs  and  a  feminine  figure,  with  long  hair  falling 
over  his  coat-collar,  and  handsome,  glowing  eyes,  was 
examining  the  portraits  on  the  wall  at  the  other  end  of 
the  room. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  after  having  greeted  the  coun- 

VOL.  III. —  19 


290  ANNA    KARENINA 

tess  and  AlekseT  Aleksandrovitch,  involuntarily  turned 
round  to  look  once  more  at  this  singular  personage. 

"  Monsieur  Landau,"  said  the  countess,  gently,  and 
with  a  precaution  which  struck  Oblonsky.  The  intro- 
duction was  made. 

Landau  hastily  glanced  around,  and  coming  up,  placed 
his  moist,  unresponsive  hand  in  Oblonsky's,  and  im- 
mediately went  back  to  look  at  the  portraits.  Lidia 
Ivanovna  and  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  exchanged  sig- 
nificant glances. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  to-day,"  said  the  countess 
to  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  motioning  him  to  a  chair, 
"  You  noticed,"  added  she,  in  a  low  voice,  glancing  at 
the  Frenchman,  "  that  I  introduced  him  to  you  by  the 
name  of  Landau  ;  but  his  name  is  really  Count  Bezzubof, 
as  you  probably  know.  Only  he  is  not  fond  of  the 
title." 

"  Yes,  I  heard  about  it,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  ; 
"  it  is  said  he  perfectly  cured  the  Countess  Bezzubof." 

"  She  came  to  see  me  to-day,"  said  the  countess,  ad- 
dressing AlekseT  Aleksandrovitch,  "  and  it  was  sad  to 
see  her.  This  separation  is  terrible  for  her.  It  is  such 
a  blow  to  her." 

"  Then  he  is  positively  going  .-*  " 

"  Yes ;  he  is  going  to  Paris.  Yesterday  he  heard  a 
voice,"  said  Lidia  Ivanovna,  looking  at  Stepan  Arka- 
dyevitch. 

"  Oh,  a  voice  ?  "  repeated  he,  feeling  that  it  was  nec- 
essary to  use  great  prudence  among  these  people,  where 
things  occurred  or  might  occur,  without  his  being  able 
to  explain  them. 

A  moment's  silence  ensued,  at  the  end  of  which  the 
Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna,  as  if  accidentally  stumbling 
on  the  chief  topic  of  their  conversation,  said,  with  a 
sweet  smile,  addressing  Oblonsky  :  — 

"  I  have  known  of  you  for  a  long  time,  and  I  am  de- 
lighted to  make  your  acquaintance.  Lcs  amis  de  nos 
amis  sont  nos  amis.  But  to  be  truly  friends,  we  must 
know  what  is  passing  in  the  souls  of  those  we  love  ;  and 
I  fear  you  do  not  with  regard  to  AlekseV  Aleksandro- 


ANNA    KARENINA 


291 


vitch.  You  understand  what  I  mean,"  said  she,  rais- 
ing her  beautiful,  dreamy  eyes. 

"I  understand  in  part  that  AlckseT  Aleksandrovitch's 
position  ...."  answered  Oblonsky,  not  understanding  very 
well  what  she  was  talking  about,  and  preferring  to  con- 
fine himself  to  generalities. 

"The  change  is  not  in  his  external  position,"  said  the 
countess,  solemnly,  and  at  the  same  time  looking  ten- 
derly at  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  who  had  risen  to  join 
Landau;  "it  is  his  heart  which  has  changed,  —  a  new 
heart  has  been  given  to  him,  —  and  I  very  much  fear 
that  you  do  not  realize  sufficiently  the  great  transforma- 
tion which  has  taken  place  in  him." 

"That  is....  in  a  general  way,  I  can  perceive  the 
change  in  him.  We  have  always  been  friends,  and 
now...."  said  Oblonsky,  answering  the  deep  gaze  of 
the  countess  with  a  tender  one,  as  he  queried  with 
which  of  the  two  ministers  she  could  do  him  the  most 
effective  service. 

"  This  transformation  cannot  diminish  his  love  for  his 
neighbor ;  on  the  contrary,  the  change  which  has  taken 
place  must  increase  love.  But  I  fear  you  don't  under- 
stand me Will  you  not  have  some  tea  .^  "  she  asked, 

looking  toward  a  lackey  who  entered  with  a  tea-tray. 

"  Not  altogether,  countess ;  of  course,  his  misfor- 
tune ...." 

"  Yes,  he  underwent  a  misfortune,  but  it  became  the 
highest  happiness,  because  his  heart  was  renewed,"  said 
she,  raising  her  eyes  lovingly  to  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 

"  I  believe  I  shall  have  to  get  her  to  speak  to  them 
both,"  thought  Oblonsky.  "Oh!  assuredly,  countess," 
said  he,  "  but  I  think  that  these  changes  are  so  per- 
sonaP  that  no  one  likes  to  speak  of  them,  even  to  his 
most  intimate  friends." 

"  On  the  contrary,  we  ought  to  speak,  and  to  help 
one  another." 

"  Yes,  without  doubt ;  but  there  are  such  differences 
of  conviction;  and,  moreover...."  and  Oblonsky  smiled 
unctuously. 

1  Iniimui. 


292  ANNA   KARENINA 

"There  cannot  be  differences  in  regard  to  sacred 
truth." 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course,  but...."       , 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  grew  confused,  and  stopped 
speaking.  He  perceived  that  the  countess  was  talking 
about  religion. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  he  's  going  to  sleep,"  said  Alek- 
se'i  Aleksandrovitch,  approaching  the  countess,  and 
speaking  in  a  significant  whisper. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  turned  round.  Landau  was 
seated  near  the  window,  with  his  elbow  leaning  on  the 
arm  and  back  of  a  chair,  and  his  head  bowed  as  he  saw 
the  looks  turned  toward  him.  He  raised  his  head  and 
smiled  in  a  naTve  and  childlike  manner. 

"  Don't  pay  any  attention  to  him,"  said  the  countess, 
pushing  a  chair  toward  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch.  "  I 
have  noticed...."  she  began,  but  was  interrupted  by  a 
lackey  bringing  her  a  letter.  She  read  it  through  with 
extraordinary  rapidity,  sent  a  reply,  and  resumed  the 
thread  of  her  discourse.  "  I  have  noticed  that  Musco- 
vites, the  men  especially,  are  very  indifferent  to  religion." 

"  Oh,  no,  countess  !  I  think  that  Muscovites  have  the 
reputation  of  being  very  pious,"  replied  Stepan  Arka- 
dyevitch. 

"  But  as  far  as  I  have  observed,  you  yourself,"  said 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  with  his  weary  smile,  "  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  belong  to  the  category  of  the  indiffer- 
ents." 

"  Is  it  possible  to  be  indifferent .''  "  cried  Lidia 
Ivanovna. 

"  I  am  not  indifferent,  but  rather  in  the  attitude  of 
expectation,"  answered  Oblonsky,  with  his  most  agree- 
able smile.  "  I  do  not  think  that  the  time  for  me  to 
settle  such  questions  has  come  yet." 

Aleksef  Aleksandrovitch  and  the  countess  exchanged 
glances. 

"  We  can  never  know  whether  the  time  for  us  has 
come  or  not,"  said  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  sternly,  "we 
ought  not  even  to  think  whether  we  are  prepared  or  not. 
The  blessing  does  not  follow  human  calculations,  does 


ANNA   KARENINA  293 

not  always  light  upon  the  most  deserving,  but  comes  to 
those  who  are  unprepared  ;  witness  Saul." 

"  It  seems  that  it  is  n't  to  be  now,"  murmured  the 
countess,  following  with  her  eyes  the  movements  of  the 
Frenchman.     Landau  got  up  and  joined  them. 

"  May  I  listen  ?  "  asked  he. 

*'Oh,  yes!  I  did  not  wish  to  disturb  you,"  said  the 
countess,  tenderly.     "  Sit  down  with  us." 

"  The  essential  thing  is  not  to  close  one's  eyes  to  the 
light,"  continued  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch. 

"  Akh  !  if  you  knew  what  a  blessing  we  experience 
when  we  feel  His  constant  presence  in  our  souls,"  said 
the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna,  with  an  ecstatic  smile. 

"  But  a  man  may  feel  himself  incapable  of  rising  to 
such  a  height,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  convinced 
that  the  heights  of  religion  were  not  his/orU\  but  fear- 
ing to  offend  a  person  who,  by  one  word  to  Pomorsky, 
might  get  him  the  place  that  he  wanted. 

"  You  mean  that  sin  may  prevent  him  ?  "  asked  Lidia 
Ivanovna.  "  But  that  is  a  mistaken  view.  For  him 
who  believes,  there  is  no  more  sin.  Sin  is  already  re- 
deemed. Pardon,"  she  added,  as  the  lackey  brought 
her  another  note.  She  read  it,  and  answered  verbally, 
"  Say  to-morrow  at  the  grand  duchess's;  "  then  she  con- 
tinued, "  For  the  believer  there  is  no  sin." 

"  Yes ;  but  '  faith  without  works  is  dead,'  "  said 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  recalling  this  phrase  of  his  cate- 
chism, with  a  smile  establishing  his  independence. 

"  That  is  the  famous  passage  in  the  Epistle  of  St. 
James,"  said  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  in  a  reproachful 
tone,  looking  at  the  countess,  as  if  to  recall  frequent  dis- 
cussions on  the  subject.  "  How  much  harm  the  false 
interpretation  of  that  passage  has  done !  It  has  driven 
more  persons  from  the  faith  than  anything  else !  '  I 
have  no  works,  therefore  I  cannot  believe,'  is  the  logi- 
cal conclusion  from  it.     It  means  exactly  the  opposite." 

"  It  is  our  monks  who  claim  to  be  saved  by  works,  by 
their  fastings,  their  abstinences,"  said  the  countess,  with 
an  air  of  fastidious  scorn.  "  Our  way  is  far  better  and 
easier,"  she  added,  looking  at  Oblonsky  with  that  scorch- 


294  ..     ANNA    KARENINA 

ing  smile  with  which,  at  court,  she  was  wont  to  wither 
young  maids  of  honor,  disconcerted  at  the  newness  of 
their  position. 

"  We  are  saved  by  Christ  who  suffered  for  us  ;  we  are 
saved  by  faith,"  resumed  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch. 

"  Vo/^s  compreiiez  V anglais  f  asked  Lidia  Ivanovna  ; 
and,  receiving  an  affirmative  answer,  she  rose,  and  took 
a  small  book  from  a  side-table.  "  I  'm  going  to  read  to 
you,  '  Safe  and  Happy  ;  or,  Under  the  Wing,'  "  said  she, 
with  a  look  of  interrogation  at  Karenin.  "  It  is  very 
short,"  added  she,  resuming  her  seat  and  opening  the 
book.  "  Here  the  way  is  described  by  which  faith  is 
attained,  and  the  joy  which  is  higher  than  any  that 
earth  can  give,  which  fills  the  soul  of  the  believer.  Man 
who  believes  cannot  be  unhappy,  because  he  is  no  longer 
alone.  Yes,  and  here  you  see...."  She  was  about  to 
go  on  reading,  when  again  the  lackey  appeared.     "  From 

Borozdin  }     Say  to-morrow,  at  two  o'clock Yes,"  she 

said,  with  a  sigh,  marking  the  place  in  the  book  with 
her  finger,  and  looking  up  with  her  pensive,  loving 
eyes.  "  This  is  the  way  true  faith  is  acquired.  Are 
you  acquainted  with  Marie  Sanina }  You  have  heard 
of  her  great  affliction  ?  She  lost  her  only  son.  She 
was  in  despair.  Well,  how  is  it  now  .-*  She  found  this 
friend.  She  thanks  God  for  the  death  of  her  child. 
Such  is  the  happiness  faith  can  give !  " 

"Ah,  yes;  this  is  very...."  murmured  Stepan  Arka- 
dyevitch,  glad  to  be  able  to  keep  silent  during  this  read- 
ing, and  to  think  over  his  affairs  a  little.  "  I  shall  do 
better  not  to  ask  anything  to-day,"  thought  he ;  "  only  how 
can  I  get  out  of  this  without  compromising  myself  .■*  " 

"  This  will  be  dull  for  you,"  said  the  countess  to  Lan- 
dau.    "  You  don't  understand  English ;  but  this  is  short." 

"Oh!  I  shall  understand,"  said  he,  with  a  smile;  and 
he  shut  his  eyes. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  and  the  countess  significantly 
looked  at  one  another,  and  the  reading  began. 


ANNA    KARENINA 


CHAPTER  XXII 


295 


Stefan  Arkadyevitch  felt  perfectly  bewildered  by 
these  strange  and  to  him  unwonted  discourses  to  which 
he  had  been  listening.  After  the  stagnation  of  Moscow, 
the  complication  of  life  in  Petersburg  as  a  general  thing 
had  an  enlivening  effect  on  him  ;  but  he  liked  it  and  was 
at  home  in  it  when  he  was  among  those  whom  he  knew 
well.  In  this  unfamiliar  environment,  he  was  bewildered 
and  stupefied,  and  could  not  make  anything  out  of  it. 

As  he  listened  to  the  reading,  and  saw  the  brilliant 
eyes  of  Laudau  —  naive  or  knavish,  he  could  not  tell 
which  —  fixed  on  him,  he  felt  a  peculiar  heaviness  in  hi.s 
head.  The  most  heterogeneous  thoughts  went  whirling 
through  his  brain. 

"  Marie  Sanina  is  happy  in  having  lost  her  son 

It  would  be  good  if  I  could  only  smoke  ! ....  To  be  saved, 
one  needs  only  to  believe The  monks  do  not  under- 
stand about  this,  but  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna 
does.  What  makes  my  head  feel  so  heavy.?  Is  it  the 
brandy,  or  the  strangeness  of  all  this  ?  I  have  done 
nothing  out  of  the  way  as  yet ;  but  I  shan't  venture  to 
ask  anything  to-day.  It  is  said  they  make  you  say  your 
prayers.  Suppose  they  should  make  me  say  mine ! 
That  would  be  too  nonsensical.  What  stuff  that  is  she 
is  reading!  But  she  reads  well.  Landau  Bezzubof.... 
why  is  he  Bezzubof  .''  " 

Suddenly  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  felt  that  his  lower 
jaw  was  irresistibly  beginning  to  accomplish  a  yawn. 
He  smoothed  his  whiskers  to  conceal  the  yawn,  and 
shook  himself ;  but  the  next  moment  he  felt  sure  that 
he  was  asleep,  and  even  beginning  to  snore.  The  voice 
of  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna  waked  him,  saying:  — 

"  He  's  asleep. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  waked  with  a  start,  feeling  a 
consciousness  of  guilt.  But  instantly  he  was  relieved 
to  find  that  the  words,  "  He  's  asleep,"  had  reference, 
not  to  himself,  but  to  Landau.  The  Frenchman  was  as 
sound  asleep  as  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  had  been.     But 


296  ANNA    KARENINA 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch's  nap  would  have  offended  them, 
—  he  did  not  think  of  this  at  the  time,  so  strange  did 
everything  seem,  —  but  Landau's  rejoiced  them  exceed- 
ingly, and  especially  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna. 

"  Mon  ami,''  said  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna,  cau- 
tiously, so  as  not  to  disturb  him  ;  and,  picking  up  the 
folds  of  her  silk  gown,  in  the  enthusiasm  of  the  moment, 
calling  Karenin,  not  Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch,  but,  "  Mon 
ami,  donncz  liii  la  main  !  voiis  voycz  ?  Sh-h  !  "  said  she 
to  the  lackey,  who  once  more  entered  the  parlor  with 
a  message.     "  I  can't  receive  it  now." 

The  Frenchman  slept,  or  pretended  to  sleep,  leaning 
his  head  on  the  back  of  his  arm-chair,  and  resting  his 
hand  on  his  knee,  but  making  feeble  gestures,  as  if  he 
were  trying  to  catch  something. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  got  up,  and  cautiously, 
though  he  tripped  over  a  table  as  he  did  so,  stepped  over 
to  the  chair,  and  put  his  hand  into  the  Frenchman's 
hand.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  also  got  up,  and  opening 
his  eyes  wide,  and  trying  to  decide  whether  he  were 
asleep  or  not,  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  and  felt  his 
ideas  growing  more  and  more  confused. 

"  Que  la  pcrsonne  qui  est  arrivee  la  dernihe,  ccllc  qui 
(iemande,  qii  elle  ....sorte.  Qu'elle  sorted'  ^  murmured  the 
Frenchman,  without  opening  his  eyes. 

"  Vous  m  excnserez,  mais  vous  voyez  —  revenez  vers 
dix  heiires,  encore  mienx  demain."  ^ 

"  Qu'e/le  sorte,"  repeated  the  Frenchman,  impatiently. 

"  C'est  moi,  n'est  ce  pas  ? '.'  asked  Oblonsky,  and  at 
an  afifirmative  sign,  forgetting  what  he  was  going  to  ask 
Lidia  Ivanovna,  forgetting  his  sister's  affairs,  with  one 
single  desire  to  escape  as  soon  as  possible,  hastened  out 
on  his  tiptoes  and  rushed  down  into  the  street,  as  if  he 
vi^ere  fleeing  from  a  pest-house,  and  for  a  long  time 
talked  and  jested  with  his  driver,  so  as  to  bring  back 
his  spirits. 

^  The  person  who  came  in  last  ....the  one  who  is  questioning  ....let  him 
go  away. 

^  You  will  excuse  nic,  but  you  understand  ....  come  back  at  ten  o'clock, 
or,  still  better,  to-morrow. 


ANNA    KARENINA  297 

At  the  French  Theater,  which  he  reached  in  time  for 
the  last  act,  and  afterward  over  his  champagne  at  the 
the  Tartars',  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  gradually  began  to 
breathe  more  freely  in  the  familiar  atmosphere.  Never- 
theless, all  that  evening  he  was  very  far  from  being 
himself. 

When  he  returned  to  the  house  of  Piotr  Oblonsky, 
where  he  made  his  home  in  Petersburg,  he  found  a  note 
from  Betsy.  She  wrote  him  that  she  was  very  desirous 
of  finishing  their  talk,  and  urged  him  to  call  the  next 
day.  He  had  hardly  finished  reading  this  note  and 
making  up  a  face  at  it,  when  heavy  shuffling  steps  were 
heard  down-stairs  as  of  men  lifting  some  heavy  object. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  went  out  to  see  what  it  was.  It' 
was  the  rejuvenated  Piotr  Oblonsky,  who  was  so  tipsy  that 
he  could  not  walk  up-stairs  ;  but  when  he  caught  sight  of 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  he  ordered  his  attendants  to  put 
him  on  his  feet,  and,  clinging  to  Stepan  Arkadyevitch's 
arm,  he  managed  to  reach  his  room,  where  he  began  to 
relate  how  he  had  spent  the  evening,  till  he  fell  asleep. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  himself  was  in  such  a  weak 
state  of  mind,  that,  contrary  to  his  custom,  he  did  not 
fall  asleep  quickly.  What  he  had  heard  and  seen  dur- 
ing the  day  was  disgusting.  But  more  disgusting  than 
anything  else  was  the  recollection  of  the  evening  at  the 
Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna's. 

The  next  day  he  received  from  Alekse'f  Aleksandro- 
vitch  a  fiat  refusal  in  the  matter  of  the  divorce,  and 
knew  that  this  decision  was  based  on  the  words  which 
the  Frenchman  had  uttered  during  his  slumber,  real  or 
feigned. 

CHAPTER   XXni 

In  order  that  anything  may  be  accomplished  in  family 
life,  it  is  requisite  that  betw^een  the  husband  and  wife 
there  should  be  either  absolute  discord  or  loving  har- 
mony. But  when  the  relations  between  the  two  are 
uncertain,  and  there  is  neither  the  one  nor  the  other, 
nothing  can  be  accomplished. 


298  ANNA    KARENINA 

Many  families  remain  for  years  in  places  of  which  the 
husband  and  wife  both  are  tired  and  disgusted,  simply 
because  there  is  neither  full  discord  nor  full  concord. 

Unendurable  to  Vronsky  and  Anna  was  their  life  in 
Moscow,  in  the  heat  and  dust,  when  the  sun  shone,  not 
now  with  its  springtime  beauty,  but  with  summer  fervor, 
and  all  the  trees  along  the  boulevards  had  been  long  in 
leaf,  and  the  leaves  were  already  thick  with  dust.  Though 
they  had  long  before  decided  to  remove  to  Vozdvizhen- 
skoye,  still  they  continued  to  live  in  Moscow,  which  was 
detestable  to  them  both,  and  the  reason  for  this  was  that 
of  late  there  had  been  no  harmony  between  them. 

The  exasperation  which  tended  to  keep  them  apart 
had  no  tangible  cause,  and  all  attempts  at  an  explanation, 
instead  of  closing  the  chasm,  only  widened  it.  It  was 
an  internal  irritation  which,  as  far  as  she  was  concerned, 
had  for  its  source  the  diminution  of  his  love  for  her,  and 
on  his  part  his  annoyance  because,  thanks  to  her,  he 
found  himself  placed  in  an  embarrassing  position,  which 
she,  instead  of  trying  to  relieve,  made  still  more  diflficult. 
Neither  he  nor  she  formulated  any  definite  complaints, 
but  each  considered  the  other  in  the  wrong,  and  at  every 
opportunity  tried  to  make  this  evident. 

She  considered  that  he,  with  all  his  habits,  ideas, 
desires,  with  all  his  spiritual  and  physical  tendencie.s, 
had  one  distinguishing  quality,  —  the  power  of  loving 
women  ;  and  this  love,  she  felt,  ought  by  good  rights  to 
be  wholly  concentrated  on  her.  This  love  had  diminished ; 
consequently,  in  her  opinion,  a  part  of  this  love  must 
necessarily  be  transferred  to  others  or  to  some  other 
woman,  and  —  she  was  jealous.  She  was  jealous,  not  of 
any  definite  woman,  but  of  his  diminished  love  for  her. 

Having  as  yet  no  definite  object  for  her  jealousy  to  rest 
on,  she  was  on  the  watch  for  one.  On  the  slightest  pre- 
text she  would  transfer  her  jealousy  from  one  person  to 
another.  Sometimes  she  suspected  him  of  low  amours, 
which  he  might  enter  into  as  an  unmarried  man  about 
town ;  sometimes  she  distrusted  ladies  whom  he  might 
meet  in  society  ;  then  again,  with  the  imaginary  young 
lady  whom  he  would  be  likely  to  marry  in  case  he  broke 


ANNA    KARENINA  299 

with  her.  This  form  of  jealousy  especially  tormented 
her,  for  the  reason  that  he  himself  had  carelessly,  in  a 
moment  of  confidence  one  day,  spoken  of  his  mother's 
lack  of  tact  in  having  ventured  to  propose  to  him  to 
marry  the  young  Princess  Sorokin. 

And  being  thus  jealous,  Anna  felt  indignant  with  him 
and  kept  finding  reasons  for  her  indignation.  For  all 
the  painfulness  of  her  position  she  blamed  him.  She 
considered  him  responsible  for  her  painful  state  of 
expectancy  which  she  was  enduring  in  Moscow,  as  it 
were  suspended  between  heaven  and  earth,  for  the 
uncertainty  in  which  she  lived,  for  AlekseT  Aleksandro- 
vitch's  delay  and  indecision,  and"  for  her  loneliness.  If 
he  loved  her,  he  would  understand  the  difficulty  of  her' 
position,  and  save  her  from  it.  He  was  to  blame  because 
she  was  living  in  Moscow  and  not  in  the  country.  He 
could  not  live  in  the  country,  as  she  wanted  to  do.  He 
wanted  society,  and  so  condemned  her  to  this  horrible 
position,  the  trials  of  which  he  could  not  comprehend. 
And,  again,  he  was  responsible  for  depriving  her  forever 
of  her  son.  Even  those  rare  moments  of  tenderness 
which  they  occasionally  enjoyed  did  not  appease  her; 
she  now  detected  in  his  tenderness  a  shade  of  calmness, 
of  assurance,  which  he  had  never  before  shown,  and 
which  exasperated  her. 

It  was  getting  dark.  Vronsky  was  at  a  gentlemen's 
dinner ;  and  Anna,  while  waiting  for  him,  had  taken 
refuge  in  his  library,  where  the  noise  of  the  street  was 
less  oppressive  than  in  the  rest  of  the  house.  She 
walked  up  and  down,  going  over  in  memory  their  last 
altercation. 

As  she  recalled  in  memory  the  insulting  words  that 
had  been  spoken,  and  tried  to  think  what  had  led  to  it, 
she  at  last  remembered  how  the  quarrel  had  begun.  For 
some  time  she  found  it  impossible  to  believe  that  any 
dissension  could  have  arisen  from  such  an  inoffensive 
conversation,  from  a  subject  which  was  so  unimportant 
to  any  one.  But  such  was  the  fact.  It  all  began  from 
his  having  made  sport  of  women's  gymnasia,  declaring 
them  unnecessary,  and  she  had  taken  up  the  cudgels  in 


300  ANNA   KARENINA 

their  defense.  He  had  disrespectfully  attacked  the 
education  of  women  in  general,  and  had  said  that  Han- 
nah, Anna's  English  protegee,  had  not  the  slightest  need 
of  knowing  anything  about  physics. 

That  had  irritated  Anna.  She  saw  in  it  a  derogatory 
reference  to  her  own  occupations,  and  she  conjured  up 
and  uttered  a  phrase  which  was  meant  to  repay  him  for 
the  pain  he  inflicted  on  her. 

"  I  did  not  expect  that  you  would  comprehend  me  and 
my  feelings  as  a  man  who  really  loved  would,  but  I  ex- 
pected at  least  some  delicacy,"  said  she. 

And  in  reality  he  had  reddened  with  vexation  and 
made  some  unpleasant  remark.  She  did  not  remem- 
ber what  retort  she  then  made,  but,  whatever  it  was, 
he  had  said  with  the  manifest  intention  of  hurting  her 
feelings :  — ■ 

"  I  confess  your  devotion  to  that  girl  does  not  interest 
me,  because  I  can  see  in  it  nothing  but  an  affecta- 
tion." 

This  cruelty  of  his,  with  which  he  demolished  the 
fabric  which  she  had  with  such  labor  erected  so  as  to 
endure  the  trials  of  her  Ufe,  this  injustice  of  his  in  accus- 
ing her  of  pretense  and  affectation,  drove  her  frantic. 

"  It  is  very  unfortunate  that  only  what  is  low  and 
material  is  comprehensible  to  you,"  she  had  retorted, 
and  she  left  the  room. 

When,  in  the  evening,  he  came  to  see  her,  the  discus- 
sion was  not  resumed,  but  they  both  felt  that  it  was  not 
forgotten. 

All  this  day  he  had  not  been  at  home ;  and  she  was 
so  lonely  and  wretched,  as  she  thought  of  their  quarrels, 
that  she  resolved  to  forget  everything,  to  ask  his  forgive- 
ness, and  to  take  the  blame  on  herself,  so  as  to  bring 
about  a  reconciliation  at  any  cost. 

"  I  am  to  blame ;  I  am  irritable ;  I  am  absurdly  jeal- 
ous. I  will  make  it  up  with  him,  and  we  will  leave  for  the 
country,  and  there  I  shall  be  calmer,"  she  thought. 

"  Affectation  !  "  —  iienatttrahio.  She  suddenly  remem- 
bered the  word  which  had  so  affronted  her,  above  all  in 
his  intention  of  causing  her  pain  by  it. 


ANNA    KARENINA  301 

"  I  know  what  he  meant.  He  meant  by  affected  that 
I  did  not  love  my  daughter,  but  loved  another's  child. 
What  does  he  know  of  the  love  a  child  can  inspire .'' 
Has  he  the  least  idea  what  I  sacrificed  for  him  in  giving 
up  Serozha  ?  But  this  desire  to  wound  me !  No,  he 
loves  another  woman ;  it  must  be  so." 

And  seeing  that,  even  while  she  wanted  to  calm  her- 
self she  was  once  more  going  over  the  circle  she  had 
so  many  times  traversed,  and  was  once  more  returning 
to  the  same  state  of  irritation,  she  was  horror-struck. 

"  Is  it  wholly  out  of  the  question  ?  Can  I  not  attach 
him  to  myself  .''  "  she  queried,  and  then  she  began  at  the 
beginning  again.  "  He  is  true,  he  is  honorable,  he  loves 
me.  I  love  him  ;  in  a  day  or  two  dissension  will  be 
ended.  What  is  necessary  .'  Calmness,  gentleness,  and 
I  shall  bring  him  back  to  me.  Yes ;  now,  when  he 
comes,  I  will  tell  him  that  I  was  to  blame  ....  although 
I  was  not  to  blame  ; ....  and  we  will  go  off." 

And,  in  order  not  to  think  any  more,  and  not  to  give 
way  to  her  irritation,  she  gave  orders  to  bring  down  her 
trunks,  to  begin  preparations  for  departure. 

At  ten  o'clock  Vronsky  came  in. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

"Well,  did  you  have  a  gay  time  .' "  asked  Anna,  going 
to  meet  him  with  an  apologetic  and  affectionate  look  on 
her  face. 

"As  such  things  usually  are,"  answered  he,  noticing 
at  once  by  her  face  that  she  was  in  one  of  her  best 
moods.  He  was  already  accustomed  to  such  metamor- 
phoses, and  this  time  he  was  particularly  glad,  because 
he  himself  was  in  his  happiest  frame  of  mind.  "  What 
do  I  see.-*  This  is  good,"  he  added,  pointing  to  the 
trunks  in  the  entry. 

"  Yes,  we  must  go.  I  went  out  to  walk  to-day,  and  it 
was  so  good  that  I  longed  to  get  back  to  the  country. 
There  's  nothing  to  keep  you  here,  is  there  .''  " 


302  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  I  should  like  nothing  better I  will  be  back  imme- 
diately, and  we  will  talk  it  over ;  all  I  want  is  to  change 
my  coat.     Have  the  tea  brought." 

There  was  something  irritating  in  the  tone  in  which 
he  said,  "This  is  good,"  as  one  speaks  to  a  child  which 
has  ceased  to  be  capricious,  and  still  more  irritating  was 
the  discrepancy  between  her  apologetic  and  his  self- 
confident  tone,  and  for  a  moment  she  felt  rising  within 
her  the  desire  to  be  pugnacious.  But  making  an  effort 
to  restrain  herself,  she  relinquished  it,  and  met  Vronsky 
as  gayly  as  before. 

When  he  came  in,  she  told  him  calmly  the  incidents 
of  the  day,  and  her  plans  for  departure,  using  in  part 
the  very  words  she  had  thought  over. 

"Do  you  know,  it  came  over  me  like  an  inspiration," 
said  she,  —  "  why  wait  here  for  the  divorce  .''  Will  it  not 
be  all  the  same  when  we  are  in  the  country .''  I  cannot 
wait  longer.  I  want  to  stop  hoping  about  the  divorce. 
I  don't  want  to  hear  anything  more  about  it.  I  think 
it  won't  have  any  more  effect  on  my  life.  Don't  you 
agree  with  me  .-*  " 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  he,  looking  with  disquietude  at 
Anna's  excited  face. 

"  Come,  tell  me  what  you  did ;  who  were  there .-' " 
said  she,  after  a  moment's  silence. 

Vronsky  named  over  the  guests. 

"The  dinner  was  excellent.  And  we  had  a  boat-race, 
and  it  was  all  very  jolly.  But  in  Moscow  nothing  can 
be  done  sans  ridicule.  Some  woman,  the  swimming- 
teacher  of  the  queen  of  Sweden,  gave  us  an  exhibition 
of  her  art." 

"  What !  Did  she  swim  for  you  }  "  demanded  Anna, 
frowning. 

"  Yes,  in  an  ugly  red  costume  de  iiatation.  She  was 
old  and  hideous What  day  do  we  go  .''  " 

"  What  an  inane  idea  !  VVas  there  anything  extraor- 
dinary about  her  method  of  swimming.''"  asked  Anna, 
not  replying  to  his  question. 

"  Not  at  all.  I  tell  you  it  was  horribly  stupid.  When 
have  you  decided  to  go  .-•  " 


ANNA    KARENINA  303 

Anna  tossed  her  head  as  if  to  get  rid  of  a  disagree- 
able thought. 

"When  shall  we  go?  The  sooner  the  better.  To- 
morrow we  can't,  but  the  day  after." 

"  Yes....  no  ....  wait!  Day  after  to-morrow  is  Monday. 
I  shall  have  to  go  to  maman,''  said  Vronsky,  somewhat 
confused ;  because,  as  he  mentioned  his  mother's  name, 
he  saw  Anna's  eyes  fixed  with  a  look  of  suspicion  on 
him,  and  his  confusion  increased  her  distrust.  She  for- 
got the  queen  of  Sweden's  swimming-teacher  in  her 
alarm  about  the  Princess  Sorokin,  who  was  living  at  a 
country  seat  in  the  suburbs  of  Moscow-  with  the  old 
countess. 

"  Can't  you  go  there  to-morrow  }  " 

"  Why,  no  !  That 's  impossible.  There  is  some  busi- 
ness that  I  must  attend  to,  —  a  power  of  attorney;  and 
the  money  will  not  be  ready  to-morrow." 

"  If  that  is  so,  we  won't  go  at  all." 

"But  why  not.?" 

"  I  won't  go  if  it  is  put  off  later.     Sunday  or  never !  " 

"Why  so  ? "  cried  Vronsky,  in  astonishment.  "  There 's 
no  sense  in  that." 

"  It  has  no  sense  for  you,  because  you  never  take  me 
into  account  at  all.  You  can't  understand  my  life. 
The  only  thing  that  interests  me  here  is  Hannah.  You 
say  that  it  is  hypocrisy.  You  said  last  evening  that 
I  did  not  love  my  daughter,  but  that  I  pretended  to  love 
this  English  girl,  that  this  was  affectation.  I  should 
like  to  know  what  can  be  natural  in  the  life  I  lead 
here .'' " 

For  an  instant  she  came  to  herself,  and  was  fright- 
ened because  she  had  broken  her  vow.  But,  though 
she  knew  that  she  was  dashing  to  destruction,  she  could 
not  resist  the  temptation  of  proving  to  him  that  he  was 
in  the  wrong,  she  could  not  help  heaping  insults  on  him. 

"  I  never  said  that :  I  said  that  I  did  not  sympathize 
with  this  sudden  tenderness  for  her." 

"Why  do  you,  who  boast  of  being  straightforwaid, 
tell  me  a  lie  .-'  " 

"  I  never  boast,  and  I  never  tell  lies,"   said  he,  re- 


304  ANNA    KARENINA 

pressing  the  anger  which  was  rising  within  him  ;  "  and 
I  am  very  sorry  if  you  do  not  respect...." 

"  Respect !  That  was  invented  to  cover  up  the  lack 
of  love.  If  you  don't  love  me  any  more,  it  would  be 
better  and  more  honorable  to  say  so." 

"  No !  this  is  becoming  intolerable,"  cried  the  count, 
suddenly  leaping  from  his  chair ;  and,  standing  in  front 
of  her,  speaking  in  measured  tones:  "Anna,"  he  asked, 
"why  do  you  try  my  patience  so.''"  and  she  could  see 
how  he  was  holding  back  the  bitter  words  that  were 
ready  to  escape  him.     "  It  has  its  limits." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that .-' "  she  cried,  looking 
with  terror  at  the  unconcealed  expression  of  hate  on  his 
whole  face,  and  especially  in  his  fierce,  cruel  eyes. 

"I  mean...."  he  began.  Then  he  stopped.  "I  have 
a  right  to  demand  what  you  wish  of  me." 

"  What  can  I  wish  .-•  I  can  only  wish  that  you  do  not 
abandon  me,  as  you  are  thinking  of  doing,"  she  said, 
comprehending  all  that  he  left  unsaid.  "  Everything 
else  is  secondary.  I  wish  to  be  loved  ;  but  love  is  gone. 
All  is  over." 

She  turned  toward  the  door. 

"  Stop  !  sto-op  !  "  said  Vronsky,  still  darkly  frowning, 
but  holding  her  by  the  arm.  "  What  is  the  trouble  ?  I 
said  that  it  is  necessary  to  postpone  our  starting  for 
three  days,  and  you  answer  by  saying  that  I  lie  and  am 
dishonorable." 

"  Yes ;  and  I  repeat  it  that  a  man  who  throws  it  into 
my  face  that  he  has  sacrificed  everything  for  me,"  said 
she,  alluding  to  a  former  quarrel,  "  is  worse  than  dis- 
honorable :  he  is  heartless." 

"That  settles  it;  my  patience  is  at  an  end,"  cried 
Vronsky,  quickly  dropping  her  hand. 

"  He  hates  me ;  that  is  certain,"  she  thought,  as  she 
went  from  the  room  in  silence  with  tottering  steps. 
"He  loves  some  other  woman;  that  is  more  certain 
still,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  reached  her  room.  "  I 
wish  to  be  loved,  but  love  is  gone.  All  is  over."  She 
repeated  the  words  that  she  had  said,  —  "  I  must  put  an 
end  to  it." 


ANNA    KARENINA  305 

"But  how?"  she  asked  herself,  sinking  into  a  chair 
before  her  mirror. 

The  most  heterogeneous  thoughts  crowded  upon  her. 
Where  should  she  go  ?  To  her  aunt,  who  had  brought 
her  up  ?  To  Dolly  .•*  or  simply  go  abroad  alone  by  her- 
self .■*  What  was  he  doing  alone  in  his  study .''  Would 
the  rupture  be  final,  or  was  there  a  possibility  of  recon- 
ciliation ?  How  would  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  look 
upon  it  ?  and  what  would  her  former  acquaintances  in 
Petersburg  say  ?  Many  other  ideas  of  what  would  hap- 
pen came  into  her  mind,  but  she  could  not  take  any 
satisfactory  account  of  them.  A  vague  idea  came  into 
her  mind,  and  awakened  some  interest,  but  she  could 
not  express  it.  Thinking  once  more  of  Aleksei  Alek- 
sandrovitch, she  recalled  a  phrase  which  she  had  used 
after  her  illness,  and  the  feeling  that  clung  to  her,  — 
"  Why  did  n't  I  die  .'* "  and  immediately  the  words  awoke 
the  feeling  which  they  had  at  that  time  expressed.  Yes, 
that  was  the  idea  which  alone  settled  everything. 

"  Death,  yes,  that  is  the  only  way  of  escape.  My 
terrible  shame,  and  the  dishonor  which  I  have  brought 
on  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  and  Serozha,  all  will  be 
wiped  away  by  my  death.  If  I  die,  he  will  repent  for 
me  then  ;  he  will  be  sorry,  he  will  love  me,  he  will  suffer 
for  me." 

A  smile  of  pity  for  herself  came  over  her  face  as  she 
kept  mechanically  taking  off  and  putting  on  the  rings 
of  her  left  hand,  and  with  vivid  imagination  she  pictured 
how  he  would  feel  after  she  was  dead. 

Approaching  steps  —  his  steps  —  caught  her  ears. 
She  affected  to  be  busily  engaged  in  taking  off  her 
rings,  and  did  not  turn  her  head. 

He  came  to  her,  and,  taking  her  hand,  said  tenderly : 
"  Anna,  we  will  go  day  after  to-morrow  if  you  wish.  I 
am  ready  for  anything Well .''  "  said  he,  waiting. 

She  did  not  speak. 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  "  he  asked. 

"You  yourself  know,"  said  she;  and  then,  unable 
to  control  herself  longer,  she  burst  into  tears.  "  Leave 
me,  leave  me,"  she  murmured  through  her   sobs.     "  I 

VOL.   HI.  —  20 


3o6  ANNA    KARENINA' 

am  going  away  to-morrow I  will  do  more.     What  am 

I  ?  A  lost  woman,  a  millstone  about  your  neck.  I 
don't  want  to  torment  you.  I  will  set  you  free.  You 
do  not  love  me;  you  love  another." 

Vronsky  begged  her  to  be  calm.  He  swore  there 
was  not  the  slightest  ground  for  her  jealousy,  and  that 
he  had  never  ceased  and  never  should  cease  to  love  her ; 
that  he  loved  her  more  than  ever. 

"  Anna,  why  torture  yourself  and  me  so  ? "  he  asked, 
as  he  kissed  her  hand.  His  face  expressed  the  deepest 
tenderness ;  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  her  ears  caught 
the  sound  of  tears  in  his  voice,  and  that  she  felt  their 
moisture  on  her  hand. 

Passing  suddenly  from  jealousy  to  the  most  passionate 
tenderness,  she  covered  his  head,  his  neck,  his  hands, 
with  kisses. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

Feeling  that  their  reconciliation  was  complete,  Anna 
the  next  morning  eagerly  made  her  preparations  for 
departure.  Although  it  was  not  yet  definitely  decided 
whether  they  should  start  on  Monday  or  Tuesday,  since 
Doth  days  had  certain  contingencies,  Anna  was  busily 
making  her  preparations  for  the  journey,  feeling  now 
perfectly  indifferent  whether  they  went  a  little  sooner 
or  a  little  later.  She  was  engaged  in  her  room  taking 
various  articles  from  an  open  trunk,  when  Vronsky, 
already  dressed,  came  to  her  earlier  than  usual. 

"  I  am  going  now  to  Flavian.  Perhaps  she  can  get 
me  the  money  through  Yegerof,  and  then  I  shall  be 
ready  to  go  to-morrow,"  he  said. 

She  was  feeling  p  irticularly  cheerful,  but  his  reference 
to  his  visit  to  his  mother's  datcha  was  like  a  stitch  in  the 
side. 

"  No  ;  I  shall  not  be  ready  myself  ;  "  and  immediately 
she  thought,  "So  then  \\.ivas  possible  to  arrange  it  so  as 
to  do  as  I  wished."  —  "  No ;  do  just  as  you  intended  to. 
And  now  go  to  the  dining-room,  and   I  will  join  you  as 


ANNA    KARENINA  307 

soon  as  I  have  taken  out  these  unnecessary  things,"  she 
added,  giving  something  more  to  Annushka,  whose  arms 
were  already  laden  with  a  heap  ol"  articles. 

Vronsky  was  eating  his  beefsteak  when  she  entered 
the  dining-room. 

"  You  can't  realize  how  odious  these  apartments  have 
become  to  me,"  she  said,  as  she  sat  down  by  him. 
"  Nothing  is  more  detestable  than  these  cJiavibrcs 
(^aniics.  There  is  no  individuality  in  them,  no  soul. 
The  clock,  the  curtains,  and  especially  the  wall-papers  — 
they  are  a  cmicJicniar.  I  think  of  Vozdvizhenskoye  as  of 
the  promised  land.  Shall  you  not  send  on  the  horses  in 
advance .-'  " 

"  No,  they  will  follow  us.  But  were  you  going  any- 
where .'' " 

"I  wanted  to  go  to  the  Wilsons';  I  must  get  a  gown. 
So  it  is  decided  that  we  go  to-morrow,  is  it  .^  "  she  added, 
in  a  joyous  tone.  But  suddenly  her  face  changed. 
Vronsky's  valet  came  in,  and  asked  him  to  sign  a  receipt 
for  a  despatch  from  Petersburg.  Still  there  was  nothing  re- 
markable in  Vronsky's  receiving  a  telegram,  but  he  acted 
as  if  he  wanted  to  conceal  something  from  her ;  and,  saying 
that  he  would  sign  it  in  his  Hbrary,  he  turned  to  her:  — 

"  To-morrow  without  fail  I  shall  have  finished  every- 
thing." 

"From  whom  is  the  despatch .-'"  she  asked,  not  hear- 
ing him. 

"  From  Stiva,"  answered  the  count,  reluctantly. 

"  Why  did  n't  you  show  it  to  me  .-*  What  secret  can 
there  be  between  Stiva  and  me  .''  " 

Vronsky  called  the  valet  back,  and  ordered  him  to 
bring  in  the  telegram. 

"  I  did  not  care  to  show  it  because  Stiva  has  a  pas- 
sion for  telegraphing.  Why  need  h&  send  me  a  despatch 
to  tell  me  that  nothing  was  decided .''  " 

"  About  the  divorce  .-'  " 

"  Yes.  He  maintains  that  he  cannot  get  a  definite 
answer.     Here,  see  for  yourself." 

Anna  took  the  despatch  with  a  trembling  hand.  It 
read  as  Vronsky  had  told  her.     At  the  end  it  said  :  — 


3o8  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  Little  hcpc ;  but  I  shall  do  everything  possible  and 
impossible." 

"  I  told  you  yesterday  that  it  was  absolutely  immaterial 
to  me  when  I  received  the  divorce,  or  whether  I  get  it 
at  all,"  said  she,  flushing,  "so  it  is  perfectly  useless  to 
hide  anything  from  me.  In  the  same  way,  he  can  hide 
from  me  his  correspondence  with  women,"  thought  she. 

"Yashvin  wanted  to  come  this  morning  with  Voitof," 
said  Vronsky.  "  It  seems  that  he  has  been  gambling 
again,  and  has  won  from  Pyebtsof  all  he  has  and  more 
than  he  can  pay....  about  sixty  thousand  rubles." 

"  No,"  said  she,  vexed  because  by  this  change  in  the 
conversation  he  so  evidently  insinuated  that  she  was 
vexed.  "Why  do  you  think  that  this  news  interests  me 
so  much  that  you  must  hide  it  from  me .''  I  told  you 
that  I  did  not  want  to  think  about  it,  and  I  should  wish 
that  you  had  as  little  interest  in  it  as  I." 

"  It  interests  me  because  I  like  clearness." 

"  Clearness !  But  in  love,  not  in  mere  outside  show," 
she  said,  getting  more  and  more  angry,  not  at  his  words, 
but  at  the  tone  of  cool  calmness  in  which  he  spoke. 
"  Why  do  you  want  a  divorce  .'*  " 

"  Bozhe  moi!  Always  'love,'"  thought  Vronsky, 
frowning.  "You  know  very  well  why;  it  is  for  your 
sake  and  for  the  children  we  may  have." 

"There  will  not  be  any  more  children."  zmo/f 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that."  ybod 

"  You  feel  the  need  of  it,  because  of  the  childr 
don't  you  have  some  thought  of  me  ? "  said  shf^  ^  ^^\ 
ting    that    he    had   just  said   "  for  your  sake  -  ^^  here, 
children's."  i../'  ns     "'-   ^   rich 

The  question  of  the  possibility  of  having  cW'^^^^^^S  ^^ 
been  long  vexatious  and  trying  to  her.  ^  Shc^^'Y  le3.vo 
desire  to  have  children  as  :  proof  of  ©cdifferenP^^S^S^  '" 
her  beauty.  ^v  -.fn 

"  Akh  !   I  said  for  your  sake  ....  moi'ef'it-.n  all  fo  ^f  ■ 
sake  ;  for  I  am  convinced  that  your  irritability  conMfi 
largely  from  the  uncertainty  of  your  position,"  ke  aii, 
swered,  scowling  with  annoyari(ie.  f  -   ....  '  *' 

"  Yes,  now  he  has  cea.sed  tv^vi.itetcnd,  and  all  his  cold 


ANNA    KARENINA  309 

hatred  of  me  is  plain  to  be  seen,"  she  said  to  herself, 
not  hearing  his  words,  but  gazing  with  horror  at  a  cold 
and  cruel  judge  who  looked  out  of  his  eyes,  and  mocked 
her. 

"  That  is  not  the  cause,"  said  she ;  "  and  I  do  not 
understand  how  my  irritability,  as  you  call  it,  can  be 
caused  by  the  fact  that  I  have  come  absolutely  into  your 
power.  How  is  my  position  indefinite  ?  It  seems  to 
me  the  contrary." 

"  I  am  sorry  that  you  are  not  willing  to  understand," 
he  replied,  obstinately  determined  to  exjircss  his  thought. 
"  Its  uncertainty  comes  from  this,  —  that  you  think  that 
I  am  free." 

"Oh  !  as  far  as  that  goes,  you  can  be  perfectly  easy,"' 
she  said,  turning  from  him,  and  beginning  to  drink  her 
coffee.  She  took  the  cup,  raising  her  little  finger,  and 
put  it  to  her  lips ;  and  as  she  drank  she  looked  at  him, 
and  by  the  expression  of  his  face  saw  clearly  that  her 
motions  and  the  sounds  that  she  made  in  swallowing 
were  repulsive  to  him. 

"  It  is  absolutely  indifferent  to  me  what  your  mother 
thinks,  and  how  she  intends  to  marry  you  off,"  said  she, 
putting  down  the  cup  with  trembling  hand. 

"We  v/ill  not  talk  of  that." 

"  Yes,  we  will  too ;  and  I  assure  you  that  a  heartless 
in,  whether  young  or  old, — your  mother  or  any- 
else,  —  does  not  interest  me;  and  I  don't  want  to 

Lu  CLuytri"." 

"  I  m  1,  I  beg  you  not  to  speak  disrespectfully  of  my 
punish  h. 

Howe^m:  .  ,vh-,  has  no  conception  of  what  the  honor 
somethin^ess  of  her  son  consist  in,  has  no  heart." 
with  comjat  mv  request  that  you  will  not  speak  disre- 
"  What  of  my  "  other,  whf>rn  I  respect,"  reiterated  the 
"  I  saai^.ing  '    i  ^  oice,  and  looking  severely  at  Anna. 
'*'^'did  not      ^^iy,  but  looked  attentively  at  his  face 
d  his  hands,  and  recalled  with  all  its  details  the  scene 
th^    evening   before,*  and    his    passionate    caresses 
just  such  caresses  be  ^  is  lavished,  and  will  still  con 
tinue  to  lavish,  on  oth(     ■  -^men,"  she  thought. 


JIG  ANNA    KARENINA 

"You  don't  love  your  mother.  Those  arc  simple 
words,  words,  words !  "  she  said,  looking  at  him  with 
eyes  full  of  hatred. 

"  If  that  is  the  case,  it  is  necessary  ...." 

"  It  is  necessary  to  decide ;  and  I  have  decided,"  said 
she,  and  was  preparing  to  leave  the  room,  when  the 
door  opened,  and  Yashvin  entered. 

She  stopped  immediately,  and  bade  him  good-morning. 

Why,  when  her  soul  was  full  of  bitterness ;  when  she 
felt  that  she  was  at  the  turning-point  of  her  life,  which 
might  take  a  terrible  direction,  —  why,  at  this  moment, 
she  had  to  dissimulate  before  a  stranger,  who  sooner  or 
later  would  know  all,  she  could  not  tell;  but,  calming 
the  inner  tumult  of  her  feelings,  she  sat  down  again, 
and  began  to  talk  with  the  guest. 

"  Well,  how  are  your  affairs .''  Have  they  paid  you 
your  debt .''  "  she  asked. 

"  No ;  not  yet.  Probably  I  shall  not  get  it  all.  And 
I  've  got  to  leave  Wednesday,"  said  Yashvin,  awkwardly, 
glancing  at  Vronsky,  and  evidently  suspecting  that  a 
tjuarrel  was  in  progress.     "  When  do  you  leave  .■*  " 

"Day  after  to-morrow,  I  think,"  said  Vronsky. 

"You  have  taken  long  to  make  up  your  minds." 

"  But  now  it  is  all  decided,"  said  Anna,  looking  straight 
into  Vronsky's  eyes  with  a  look  that  told  him  how  im- 
possible it  was  to  think  of  reconciliation. 

"  Did  n't  you  feel  sorry  for  that  unlucky  Pyebtsof  ?  " 
asked  Anna,  addressing  Yashvin. 

"  I  have  never  asked  myself  whether  I  pitiel  a  ma; 
or  not,  Anna  Arkadyevna.  My  whole  fortune  is  here,' 
said  he,  pointing  to  his  pocket.  "  Now  I  an  a  rich 
man,  but  I  may  come  out  of  the  club  this  j/ening  a 
beggar.  Whoever  plays  with  me  would  ghdly  leave 
me  without  a  shirt,  and  I  him.  Well !  We  mgage  in 
war,  and  that  makes  the  fun." 

"Well,  but  if  you  were  married,  how  would  it  be.  f/it 
your  wife .'' " 

Yashvin  laughed. 

"  But  I  am  not  married,  and  I  don't  expect  to  marry. 

"  But  how  about  Helsingfors  ?  "  suggested  Vronsky 


ANNA    KARENINA  311 

joining  in  the  conversation,  and  looking  at  Anna's 
smiling  face.  But  as  she  met  his  glance  her  face 
suddenly  assumed  a  set  and  cold  expression,  as  much 
as  to  say  to  him  :  "  I  have  not  forgotten.  It 's  still  the 
same." 

"  And  have  n't  you  ever  been  in  love  ?  "  she  asked  of 
Yashvin. 

"  Oh,  Lord  !  plenty  of  times.  Only  remember,  one 
may  sit  down  to  cards,  but  must  be  able  to  get  up  when 
the  time  comes  for  a  rendezvous ;  but  I  interest  myself 
in  love-affairs  in  such  a  way  that  I  need  not  be  late  to 
play  my  hand  in  the  evening.  And  so  I  always  arrange 
matters." 

"  You  misunderstand  ;  T  did  not  ask  about  that,  but 
about  actual  ...."  She  wanted  to  say  Hclshigfors,  but 
she  did  not  like  to  use  a  word  which  Vronsky  had  just 
spoken. 

Voitof  came  at  this  moment  to  see  about  a  horse 
which  he  had  bought ;  Anna  got  up  and  left  the  room. 

Before  he  left  the  house,  Vronsky  went  to  her  room. 
She  pretended  to  look  for  something  on  the  table,  but 
then,  being  ashamed  of  this  dissimulation,  she  looked 
him  straight  in  the  face.  She  asked  him  coolly  in 
F^rench,  "What  do  you  want.''  " 

"The  certificate  for  Gambetta ;  I  have  sold  him,"  an- 
swered Vronsky,  in  a  tone  which  said  louder  than  words, 
"  I  have  not  time  for  explanations,  nor  would  they  lead 
to  anything." 

"  I  'm  not  to  blame,"  thought  he ;  *'  if  she  wants  to 
punish  herself,  taut  pis  pour  ellc.'' 

However,  as  he  left  the  room  he  thought  she  said 
something  to  him,  and  his  heart  was  suddenly  touched 
with  compassion  for  her. 

"  What  is  it,  Anna  .'  "  he  asked. 

"  I  said  nothing,"  she  answered  coldly  and  calmly. 

"Nothing!  taut  pis  ^^  he  said  again  to  himself.  On 
his  way  out,  as  he  passed  a  mirror,  he  caught  sight  in 
it  of  her  pale  face  and  trembling  lips.  He  was  tempted 
to  go  back  and  say  some  comforting  words  to  her,  but 
he   was    already  too   far  on   his  way.     He    passed   the 


312  ANNA   KARENINA 

entire  day  outside  the  house ;  and  when  he  came  home 
the  maid  informed  him  that  Anna  Arkadyevna  had  a 
headache,  and  begged  him  not  to  disturb  her. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

Never  before  had  they  let  a  day  end  with  a  quarrel 
unsettled.  This  was  the  first  time.  This  .was  not  a 
mere  quarrel ;  it  was  evidently  the  avowal  of  permanent 
coldness.  How  was  it  possible  for  him  to  look  at  her 
as  he  had  done  when  he  came  into  her  room  after  his 
document?  how  could  he  look  at  her,  and  see  that  her 
heart  was  full  of  despair,  and  then  go  out  with  a  calm,  in- 
different face  .''  He  had  not  only  grown  cold  to  her,  but 
he  hated  her,  because  he  loved  some  other  woman. 
This  was  clear.  And,  as  she  recalled  all  the  cruel 
words  which  he  had  said  to  her,  Anna  began  to  imagine 
also  the  words  which  she  was  certain  he  would  like  to 
say  to  her  and  might  say,  and  she  grew  more  and  more 
irritated. 

"  I  will  not  keep  you,"  she  imagined  him  saying. 
"  You  may  go  wherever  you  please.  As  you  don't  care 
to  be  divorced  from  your  husband,  you  probably  intend 
to  go  back  to  him.  If  you  want  money,  I  will  give  it 
to  you.     How  many  rubles  do  you  want  .-*  " 

All  these  insulting  words  which  the  cruel  man  might 
say  were  said  merely  in  her  imagination,  but  she  could 
not  forgive  him  any  more  than  if  he  had  really  said 
them. 

"  But  did  he  not  swear  to  me  only  yesterday  that  he 
loved  me  .-*  Is  he  not  a  sincere  and  honest  man.''"  she 
said  to  herself  a  moment  afterward.  "  Have  I  not  been 
in  despair  several  times  before,  all  for  nothing  ?  " 

She  passed  the  entire  day,  except  two  hours  during 
which  she  made  a  visit  to  \\q.x  proteges,  the  Wilsons,  in 
alternate  doubt  and  hope.  Was  all  at  an  end.^  Was 
there  any  chance  of  a  reconciliation .-"  Should  she  leave 
him  then  and  there,  or  should  she  wait  and  see  him  once 
again  }     She   waited   for  him  all  day ;  and  in  the  eve- 


ANNA    KARENINA  313 

ning  she  went  to  her  room,  telling  Anniishka  to  say  that 
she  had  a  headache. 

"  If  he  comes  in  spite  of  that,  it  will  show  that  he 
loves  me  still ;  if  not,  it  is  over,  and  I  shall  make  up  my 
mind  what  there  is  for  me  to  do.".... 

Late  in  the  evening  she  heard  his  carriage-wheels  on 
the  pavement,  his  ring,  and  his  steps,  and  his  colloquy 
with  the  maid ;  he  believed  what  he  was  told,  he  did  not 
care  to  make  any  further  inquiries,  and  he  went  to  his 
room.  Evidently  all  w^as  at  an  end.  And  Death  as  the 
only  means  of  establishing  a  love  for  her  in  his  heart,  of 
punishing  him,  and  of  winning  the  victory  in  the  struggle 
which  the  evil  spirit  that  had  possession  of  her  soul  was 
waging  with  him,  clearly,  vividly,  presented  itself  before 
her. 

Now  everything  was  a  matter  of  indifference  — 
whether  they  went  to  the  country  or  not,  whether  she 
])rocurcd  the  divorce  or  not  —  it  was  unnecessary;  the 
one  essential  thing  was  to  punish  him. 

When  she  poured  out  her  usual  dose  of  opium,  and 
it  came  over  her  that  if  she  swallowed  all  that  was  in 
the  vial  she  would  die,  it  seemed  so  easy  and  simple 
that  she  felt  a  real  joy  in  imagining  how  he  would 
mourn,  repent,  and  love  her  when  it  was  too  late.  She 
lay  on  her  bed  with  open  eyes,  and  watched  the  dying 
candle-light  on  the  molded  cornice  of  the  ceiling  mingle 
with  the  shadow  of  the  screen  which  divided  the  room  ; 
she  vividly  pictured  to  herself  how  he  would  think  when 
she  was  no  more,  when  she  was  only  a  memory.  "  How 
could  I  speak  to  her  such  cruel  words .-'"  he  would  say 
to  himself.  "  How  could  I  leave  her  without  saying 
anything  at  all .''  and  now  she  is  no  more  ;  she  has  left 
us  forever  !     She  is  there  ...." 

Suddenly  the  shadow  of  the  screen  seemed  to  waver 
and  cover  the  whole  cornice,  the  whole  ceiling ;  other 
shadows  from  the  other  sides  joined  in  with  it;  for  an 
instant  they  seemed  to  be  running,  then  with  new  rapid- 
ity they  trembled,  melted  together,  and  all  became  dark. 

"  Death  !  "  thought  she ;  and  such  a  great  terror  seized 
upon  her,  that  for  a  long  time  she  did  not  know  where 


314  ANNA    KARENINA 

she  was ;  and  it  was  long  before  her  trembhng  hands 
could  find  the  matches,  in  order  to  light  another  candle 
in  place  of  the  one  that  had  burned  down  and  gone  out. 

"No,  no!  anything ....  only  to  live!  I  love  him,  and 
he  loves  me ;  these  dreadful  days  will  go  by !"  she  said 
to  herself,  feeling  that  tears  of  joy  poured  down  her 
cheeks  at  her  return  to  life.  And  to  escape  her  terror 
she  fled  to  Vronsky's  library. 

He  was  in  his  library,  soundly  sleeping.  She  went  to 
him,  and,  holding  the  candle  above  his  face,  looked  at 
him  a  long  time.  Now,  as  he  slept,  she  felt  such  love 
for  him,  that  at  the  sight  of  him  she  could  not  refrain 
from  tears  of  tenderness;  but  she  knew  that,  if  he  woke 
he  would  look  at  her  with  a  cold,  self-justifying  look, 
and  that  before  she  spoke  a  word  of  her  love  she  would 
not  be  able  to  resist  the  temptation  of  proving  to  him 
how  wrong  he  was. 

Without  waking  him  she  went  back  to  her  room ;  and, 
after  a  second  dose  of  opium,  she  fell  into  a  heavy  sleep 
which  lasted  till  morning,  and  all  the  time  she  was  con- 
scious of  herself. 

Toward  morning  she  had  the  frightful  nightmare 
which  she  had  experienced  several  times  even  before 
her  liaison  with  Vronsky.  She  saw  a  little  old  man, 
with  unkempt  beard,  doing  something,  bending  over  a 
gourd,  and  muttering  unintelligible  French  words ;  and, 
as  always  when  she  had  this  nightmare,  and  therein 
lay  the  horror  of  the  dream,  she  felt  that  the  little  old 
man  paid  no  heed  to  her,  but  did  this  horrible  some- 
thing in  the  gourd  over  her  head.  She  awoke  in  a  cold 
perspiration. 

When  she  got  up,  the  events  of  the  day  before  seemed 
enveloped  in  mist. 

"  There  was  a  quarrel.  It  has  happened  several 
times  before.  I  said  I  had  a  headache,  and  he  didn't 
come  to  see  me.  That  is  all.  To-morrow  we  shall  go 
away.  I  must  see  him,  and  get  ready  for  our  depar- 
ture," she  said  to  herself ;  and,  knowing  that  he  was  in 
his  library,  she  started  to  go  to  him. 

But,  in  crossing  the  drawing-room,  her  attention  was 


ANNA    KA.iENINA  315 

arrested  by  the  sound  of  a  carriage  stopping,  and  she 
looked  out  of  the  window  ano  saw  a  carriage,  from  the 
window  of  which  a  young  girl  in  a  light  hat  was  putting 
out  her  head,  and  giving  orders  to  the  footman,  who 
was  at  the  door-bell.  After  a  colloquy  in  the  vestibule, 
some  one  came  up-stairs,  and  Anna  heard  Vronsky's 
steps  in  the  room  next  the  drawing-room.  Then  he  ran 
swiftly  down-stairs.  Anna  looked  out  again,  and  saw 
him  go  out  to  the  door-steps  bare-headed,  and  approach 
the  carriage.  The  young  gir  in  the  lilac-colored  hat 
handed  him  a  package.  Vroisky  smiled  as  he  spoke 
to  her.  The  carriage  drove  i  way,  and  Vronsky  came 
quickly  up-stairs  again. 

The  mist  which  enwrapped  everything  in  Anna's  soul- 
suddenly  cleared  away.  The  feelings  of  the  day  before 
tore  her  anguished  heart  more  cruelly  than  ever.  She 
now  could  not  understand  how  she  could  have  so  far 
debased  herself  as  to  stay  a  single  day  under  his  roof. 
She  went  to  his  library,  to  acquaint  him  with  the  resolu- 
tion that  she  had  taken. 

"  The  Princess  Sorokin  and  her  daughter  have  brought 
me  the  money  and  papers  from  maman.  I  could  not 
get  them  yesterday.  How  is  your  headache.^  better.-'" 
he  said  quietly,  seeming  not  to  notice  the  gloomy  and 
solemn  expression  of  Anna's  face. 

She  did  not  reply  ;  but,  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  she  looked  fixedly  at  him.  He  glanced  at  her 
for  an  instant,  his  brows  contracted,  and  he  continued  to 
read  his  letter.  Without  speaking,  Anna  turned  slowly 
about,  and  left  the  room.  He  might  yet  detain  her  ;  but 
she  had  reached  the  door.  He  said  not  a  word,  the  only 
sound  heard  was  the  rustling  of  the  sheet  of  paper. 

"  Oh  !  by  the  way,"  he  exclaimed,  just  as  she  was  on 
the  threshold,  "  do  we  really  go  to-morrow  }  " 

"You,  but  not  I,"  answered  she,  turning  round  on  him. 

"Anna,  it  is  impossible  to  live  in  this  way." 

"  You,  not  I,"  she  repeated. 

"  It 's  becoming  intolerable  !  " 

"  You  ....  you  will  be  sorry  for  this,"  said  she  ;  and  she 
went  out. 


3i6  ANNA    KARENINA 

Frightened  at  the  despairing  tone  with  which  she 
spoke  those  last  words,  he  sprang  up  and  started  to 
follow  her ;  but,  on  reflection,  he  seated  himself  again, 
and,  firmly  clenching  his  teeth,  he  frowned.  That  unbe- 
coming threat,  as  he  termed  it,  irritated  him.  "  I  have  tried 
every  means,"  he  said  to  himself  :  "  the  only  thing  left  is 
to  pay  no  attention  ;  "  and  he  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to 
the  city  and  to  his  mother's  again,  to  have  her  sign  a  deed. 

Anna  heard  the  sound  of  his  steps  in  his  library  and 
the  dining-room.  He  stopped  at  the  drawing-room. 
But  he  did  not  come  to  her :  he  only  gave  some  direc- 
tions about  sending  the  stallion  to  Voitof.  Then  she 
heard  the  calash  drive  to  the  entrance,  a  door  opened 
and  Vronsky  went  out.  Then  he  came  back  into  the 
vestibule  again  and  some  one  ran  up-stairs.  It  was  his 
valet,  who  was  sent  to  get  a  pair  of  forgotten  gloves. 
She  went  to  the  window,  and  saw  Vronsky  take  his 
gloves,  then  touch  the  coachman's  back,  and  say  some 
words  to  him  ;  and  then,  without  glancing  at  the  window, 
he  sat  down  as  usual,  in  the  carriage,  crossing  one  leg 
over  the  other.  And,  putting  on  the  gloves,  he  turned 
the  corner,  and  disappeared  from  Anna's  sight. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

"  He  is  gone.  It 's  all  over,"  said  Anna  to  herself,  as 
she  stood  at  the  window  ;  and  the  impression  of  black- 
ness which  she  had  felt  in  the  night  at  the  dying  candle 
and  that  of  the  nightmare  blending  in  one,  filled  her 
heart  with  chill  horror.  "No,  I  cannot  endure  this,"  she 
cried,  and,  crossing  the  room,  she  rang  the  bell  violently. 
She  was  so  afraid  to  stay  alone,  that,  without  waiting, 
she  went  to  meet  the  servant. 

"  Find  out  where  the  count  has  gone." 

The  man  replied  that  he  had  gone  to  the  stables. 
"  He  left  word  that  the  carriage  would  return  immedi- 
ately if  you  wished  to  go  out." 

"  Very  well.  Wait,  I  am  going  to  write  a  note,  send 
Mikhail  with  it  to  the  stables.      Have  him  hurry." 


ANNA    KARENINA  317 

She  sat  down  and  wrote  :  — 

1  am  to  blame.  Come  back.  We  must  explain  things. 
For  Heaven's  sake,  come  !     I  am  frightened. 

She  sealed  the  note,  and  gave  it  to  the  servant ;  and, 
in  her  fear  of  being  alone,  she  went  to  the  nursery. 

"  Why,  he  is  not  the  same  as  he  was.  Where  are  his 
blue  eyes,  and  his  pretty,  timid  smile  ? "  was  her  first 
thought  when  she  saw  the  plump  and  rosy  little  girl,  with 
her  dark  curly  hair,  instead  of  Serozha,  whom,  in  the 
confusion  of  her  thoughts,  she  had  expected  to  see. 

The  little  girl  was  seated  at  the  table,  noisily  tapping 
on  it  with  a  glass  stopper.  She  looked  unintelligently  at 
her  mother  with  two  dark,  currant-colored  eyes.  Answer- 
ing the  English  nurse  that  she  was  well,  and  expected  to 
go  to  the  country  the  next  day,  Anna  sat  down  beside 
the  little  girl,  and  began  to  spin  the  stopper  from  the 
carafe  in  front  of  her.  The  motion  of  the  child's  brows 
and  her  hearty  laugh  recalled  Vronsky  so  vividly  that 
Anna,  choking  down  her  sobs,  rose  suddenly,  and  hur- 
ried from  the  room. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  all  is  over  .''  No,  it  cannot  be," 
thought  she.  "  He  will  return.  But  how  can  he  explain 
that  smile  of  his  and  his  animation,  after  he  spoke  with 
//rr  f  But  even  if  he  does  n't  explain  it,  I  shall  believe 
him ;  if  I  do  not  believe,  there  is  only  one  thing  left, 
and  that  I  do  not  want." 

She  looked  at  her  watch.    Twelve  minutes  had  gone  by. 

"  Now  he  must  have  received  my  note,  and  must  come 
back  in  ten  minutes.  And  what  if  he  should  n't  come 
back .''  No,  but  that 's  impossible.  He  must  not  find 
me  with  red  eyes ;  I  '11  go  and  bathe  my  face.  There, 
there!  Have  I  brushed  my  hair  yet.?"  She  could  not 
remember.  She  put  her  hands  to  her  head.  "  Ves,  I 
brushed  my  hair,  but  I  really  don't  remember  when  it 
was."  She  actually  did  not  believe  that  her  hands  told 
her  truly,  and  she  went  to  the  pier-glass  to  see.  Her 
hair  was  properly  arranged,  but  she  could  not  remember 
anything  about  it. 

"  Who  is  this  .''  "  she  asked  herself,  as  she  caught  sight 


3i8  ANNA    KARENINA 

of  a  glowing  face  and  strangely  brilliant  eyes  gazing  at 
her  from  the  mirror.  "  Yes,  it  is  I."  And  she  suddenly 
seemed  to  feel  his  kisses  ;  and  she  shivered,  and  shrugged 
her  shoulders.  Then  she  put  her  hand  to  her  lips,  and 
kissed  it.  "  It  must  be  that  I  am  going  out  of  my 
mind  ;  "  and  she  fled  to  her  room,  which  Annushka  was 
putting  in  order. 

"  Annushka,"  she  said,  as  she  stood  before  the  maid, 
not  knowing  what  to  say. 

"  Will  you  go  to  Darya  Aleksandrovna's .'' "  said  the 
maid,  as  if  reading  her  thoughts. 

"  To  Darya  Aleksandrovna's  ?  Yes,  I  will  go  there. 
Fifteen  minutes  to  go,  fifteen  to  come  back.  He  ought 
to  be  here."  She  looked  at  her  watch.  "Oh!  how 
could  he  leave  me  in  such  a  condition  ?  How  can  he 
live,  and  not  be  at  peace  with  me  ? "  She  went  to  the 
window,  and  looked  out  into  the  street ;  perhaps  she 
had  made  a  mistake  in  calculating,  and  she  began  over 
again  to  count  the  minutes  since  he  left. 

Just  as  she  was  about  going  to  consult  the  great  clock, 
so  as  to  verify  hers,  a  carriage  stopped  before  the  door. 
It  was  the  count's  calash,  but  no  one  came  up-stairs,  and 
she  heard  voices  in  the  vestibule.  It  was  the  messenger, 
who  came  back  in  the  calash.     She  hurried  down  to  him. 

"They  were  too  late  for  the  count.  He  had  gone  to 
the  Nizhegorodsky  railway  station." 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  what  is  it  .■'  "  she  asked,  address- 
ing the  ruddy,  jolly  Mikhail,  who  handed  her  back  the 
note.     Oh,  yes ;  he  did  not  receive  it,  she  remembered. 

"  Go  with  this  note  to  the  Countess  Vronsky's  in  the 
country,  you  understand .''  and  bring  an  answer  back  to 
me  immediately ! " 

"  But  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  she  thought.  "  Yes,  I  will 
go  to  see  Dolly,  to  be  sure,  or  else  I  shall  go  out  of  my 
mind.  Ah  !  I  might  telegraph  !  "  And  she  wrote  the 
following  despatch  :  — 

I  absolutely  must  speak  to  you.     Come  back  immediately. 

Having  sent  the  telegram,  she  went  and  dressed ;  and 
then,  with  her   hat   on,  she  again  looked  at  the  stout, 


ANNA    KARENINA 


319 


good-natured  Annushka,  whose  little,  gentle  gray  eyes 
were  full  of  sympathy. 

**  Annushka,  my  dear,  what  am  I  to  do  ?  "  murmured 
she,  dropping  into  an  arm-chair  with  a  sob. 

"You  mustn't  excite  yourself  so,  Anna  Arkadyevna. 
Go  out  for  a  drive ;  that  will  divert  you.  These  things 
will  happen,"  said  the  maid. 

"  Yes,  I  am  going  out,"  said  Anna,  collecting  her 
thoughts,  and  rising.  "  If  a  despatch  comes  while  I  am 
gone,  send  it  to  Darya  Aleksandrovna's.  Or  ....no,  I 
will  come  back  —  I  must  keep  from  thinking.  I  must 
do  something,  and  go  out,  and,  above  all,  get  out  of  this 
house,"  thought  she,  listening,  with  alarm,  to  the  wild, 
beating  of  her  heart.  She  hastened  out  and  got  into  the 
calash. 

"  Where  do  you  wish  to  go  .-*  "  asked  Piotr,  just  before 
he  took  his  seat  on  the  box. 

'*  To  Znamenko,  to  the  Oblonskys'." 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

The  weather  was  clear.  A  fine,  thick  rain  had  fallen 
all  the  morning,  but  now  it  had  just  cleared  off.  The 
roofs  and  flagstones  and  harnesses  and  the  metal-work 
of  the  carriages  glittered  in  the  May  sunshine.  It  was 
three  o'clock,  the  liveliest  time  in  the  streets. 

Sitting  in  the  corner  of  the  comfortable  calash,  which 
swung  easily  on  its  elastic  springs  as  it  rolled  swiftly 
along,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  grays,  Anna,  soothed  by  the 
monotonous  rumble  of  the  wheels  and  the  hurrying  im- 
pressions that  she  received  in  the  fresh,  pure  air,  reviewed 
the  events  of  the  past  few  days,  and  her  situation  seemed 
entirely  different  from  what  it  had  been  at  home.  Now, 
the  idea  of  death  did  not  frighten  her  so  much,  and  death 
itself  did  not  seem  to  her  so  inevitable.  Now  she  blamed 
herself  for  the  humiliation  to  which  she  had  stooped. 

"  I  begged  him  to  forgive  me.  I  bent  before  him.  I 
accused  myself.  Why  did  I  ?  Can't  I  live  without 
hira?" 


320  ANNA    KARENINA 

And,  leaving  this  question  unanswered,  she  began  to 
read  the  sign-boards  mechanically. 

''  Kontor  i  sklad.  Ziibno'i  Vratch}  —  Yes,  I  will  tell 
Dolly  all  about  it.  She  does  not  love  Vronsky."  It  will 
be  hard,  shameful, ....  but  I  will  confess  everything.  She 
loves  me.  I  will  follow  her  advice.  I  will  not  allow 
him  to  treat  me  Uke  a  child.  PJiiloppof —  Kalatchi ; 
they  say  they  send  those  loaves  as  far  as  Petersburg. 
The  water  at  Moscow  is  so  good ;  ah !  the  wells  of 
Muitishchensky  !  " 

And  she  remembered  how  long,  long  ago,  when  she 
was  seventeen,  she  had  gone  with  her  aunt  to  the 
monastery  of  Troitsa.^ 

"They  traveled  with  horses  in  those  days.  Was  it 
really  I,  with  the  red  hands }  How  many  things  which 
seemed  then  beautiful  and  unattainable  are  worthless  to 
me  now  !  What  I  was  then,  is  passed  forever  beyond 
recall!  And  ages  could  not  bring  me  back.  Would  I 
have  believed  then  that  I  could  have  fallen  into  such 
debasement.''....  How  proud  and  self-satisfied  he  will  be 

when  he  reads  my  note!     But  I  will  tell  him How 

disagreeable  this  paint  smells !  Why  are  they  always 
painting  and  building }  Modtii  i  uboriii.  Fashionable 
Dressmaker,''  she  read. 

A  man  bowed  to  her;  it  was  Annushka's  husband. 

"  Our  parasites,  as  Vronsky  says.  Ours  .''  Why  ours  ? 
Ah,  if  one  could  tear  out  the  past  by  the  roots !  But 
that 's  impossible ;  one  can  only  avoid  thinking  about  it. 
And  I  do  that." 

And  yet,  here  she  recalled  her  past  with  Aleksef 
Aleksandrovitch,  and  how  she  had  driven  him  out  of  her 
memory. 

"  Dolly  will  think  that  I  am  leaving  the  second  hus- 
band, and  that  I  am,  therefore,  really  bad.  Do  I  want 
to  be  good.?     I  cannot."  ....  And  she  felt  the  tears  com- 


^  Office  and  warehouse.     Surgeon-Dentist. 

'■^  The  Troitskaia  Lav7-a,  or  Trinity  Laura,  near  Moscow,  founded  by 
St.  Sergius  in  the  fourteenth  century  in  the  time  of  the  Grand  Prince 
Simeon;  the  richest  and  most  famous  institution  of  its  kind  in  Russia.  At 
one  time  it  had  700  monks  and  1 10,000  souls,  or  male  serfs. 


ANNA    KARENINA  321 

ing.  And,  seeing  two  happy  young  girls  going  by,  she 
fell  to  wondering  why  they  were  smiling  at  each  other. 
"  Probably    about   love.       They    don't    know    how    sad 

and  wretched  it  is The  boulevards  and  the  children! 

There  are  three  little  boys,  playing  horse.  Serozha ! 
my  little  Serozha.     I  shall  lose  all.     I  shall  never  have 

him  again Well,    if  he  does  not    come   back,  all    is 

indeed  lost.  Perhaps  he  missed  the  train,  and  has 
already  reached  home.  Do  I  wish  to  humiliate  myself 
still  more.'"'  she  said,  reproaching  herself  for  her  weak- 
ness. "  No,  I  'm  going  to  Dolly's.  I  shall  say  to  her, 
*  I  am  unhappy,  I  am  suffering ;  I  deserve  it ;  but  I  am 
so  unhappy,  help  me ! '  Oh,  these  horses,  this  calash  ! 
how  I  hate  to  use  them  !  they  are  his.  I  will  never  see 
them  again !  " 

While  thinking  over  what  she  should  say  to  Dolly,  and 
deliberately  torturing  her  heart,  she  reached  the  house, 
and  went  up  the  steps. 

"  Is  there  any  one  here  } "  she  asked,  in  the  anteroom. 

"  Katerina  Aleksandrovna  Levina,"  answered  the 
servant. 

"  Kitty,  the  same  Kitty  with  whom  Vronsky  was  once 
in  love,"  thought  Anna;  "and  he  thinks  of  her  with 
love,  and  is  sorry  that  he  did  not  marry  her;  and  he 
thinks  of  me  with  hate,  and  is  sorry  that  he  ever  met 
me." 

When  Anna  arrived,  the  two  sisters  were  talking  over 
the  subject  of  feeding  babies.  Dolly  went  alone  to  the 
drawing-room  to  receive  the  guest  that  had  come  to 
disturb  their  conversation. 

"  You  have  n't  gone  away  yet  .'*  I  was  just  going  to 
your  house,"  said  Dolly.  "  I  have  a  letter  from  Stiva 
to-day." 

"We  had  a  despatch,"  answered  Anna,  glancing  round 
to  see  if  Kitty  was  coming. 

"  He  writes  that  he  does  not  understand  what  Alekse/ 
Aleksandrovitch  requires,  but  that  he  will  not  come  away 
till  he  has  a  definite  answer." 

"  I  thought  you  had  company.  May  I  read  the 
letter  ? " 

VOL.  III.  — 21 


322  ANNA    KARENINA 

"Yes, ....  Kitty,"  said  Dolly,  confused;  "she  is  in  the 
nursery.     You  know  she  has  been  very  ill." 

"  I  heard  so.     May  I  read  the  letter  ?  " 

"  Certainly  ;  I  '11  go  and  get  it.  Aleksei  Aleksandro- 
vitch  does  not  refuse ;  on  the  contrary,  Stiva  is  quite 
hopeful,"  said  Dolly,  stopping  at  the  door. 

"  I  neither  hope  nor  want  anything,"  said  Anna. 

"  Does  Kitty  think  it  humiliating  to  meet  me .'' " 
thought  Anna,  when  she  was  left  alone.  "  Perhaps  she 
is  right ;  but  she  who  once  loved  Vronsky  has  no  right 
to  thrust  it  in  my  face,  even  if  she  is  right.  I  know 
that  a  virtuous  woman  cannot  receive  me  in  my  present 
position.  I  have  given  up  everything  for  him,  and  this 
is  my  reward !  Ah,  how  I  hate  him  !  Why  did  I  come 
here.''     I  am  more  wretched  here  than  at  home." 

She  heard  the  voices  of  the  two  sisters  in  an  adjoin- 
ing room. 

"And  what  am  I  to  say  to  Dolly  ?  Delight  Kitty  with 
the  spectacle  of  my  misery  ?  Submit  to  her  condescen- 
sion.-' Never!  Even  Dolly  wouldn't  understand.  I 
will  not  say  anything  to  her.  All  I  should  want  to  see 
Kitty  for  would  be  to  show  her  that  I  am  indifferent,  — 
that  I  scorn  every  one  and  everything." 

Dolly  came  in  with  the  letter ;  Anna  silently  looked 
it  through,  and  returned  it. 

"I  knew  all  that,"  said  she;  "but  it  doesn't  interest 
me  at  all." 

"  Now,  why  not  ?  I  have  good  hopes,"  said  Dolly,  look- 
ing critically  at  Anna.  She  had  never  seen  her  in 
such  a  strange  state  of  irritation.  "  When  do  you  go 
away  .•"" 

Anna  half  closed  her  eyes,  and  looked  before  her  with- 
out answering. 

"  Is  Kitty  afraid  of  me.-'"  she  asked,  after  a  moment, 
glancing  toward  the  door,  with  heightened  color. 

"  Akh,  what  nonsense  !     But  she  is  nursing  the  baby 

....  it  does  not  go  very  well  yet I  have  been  giving 

her  some  advice....  she  will  be  delighted,  and  is  coming 
directly,"  answered  Dolly,  awkwardly,  not  knowing  how 
to  tell  a  fib.     "  Oh,  there  she  is  now." 


ANNA    KARENINA 


3'^3 


When  Kitty  heard  that  Anna  was  there,  she  had  not 
wished  to  appear  ;  but  Dolly  had  persuaded  her.  Con- 
trolling her  repugnance,  she  went  to  the  parlor,  and, 
blushing  as  she  approached  Anna,  she  held  out  her 
hand. 

"  I  am  very  glad,"  said  she,  in  a  trembling  voice. 

Kitty  was  confused  by  the  struggle  between  her  dis- 
like of  this  wicked  woman  and  her  desire  to  be  polite 
to  her ;  but,  as  soon  as  she  saw  Anna's  beautiful,  attrac- 
tive face,  all  her  unfriendliness  vanished. 

"  I  should  not  have  been  surprised  if  you  had  refused 
to  see  me;  I  am  used  to  everything,"  said  Anna.  "You 
have  been  very  ill ;  yes,  you  have  changed." 

Kitty  felt  that  Anna  looked  at  her  with  disHke,  and 
she  attributed  her  unfriendliness  to  the  awkward  position 
in  which  she  stood  in  regard  to  herself,  having  once  been 
her  especial  favorite.  Her  heart  was  filled  with  com- 
passion. 

They  talked  of  Kitty's  illness,  about  her  baby,  and  of 
Stiva ;  but  evidently  nothing  interested  Anna. 

"I  came  to  bid  you  good-by,"  she  said  to  Dolly,  as 
she  rose. 

"  When  do  you  go  }  " 

But,  without  answering  her,  Anna  turned  to  Kitty. 

"Well,  I  am  very  glad  to  have  seen  you  again,"  said 
she,  with  a  smile.  "  I  've  heard  so  much  about  you  from 
every  one,  and  especially  from  your  husband.  He  came 
to  see  me,  and  I  liked  him  very  much,"  she  added,  with 
a  wicked  emphasis.     "  Where  is  he  .?  " 

"He  has  gone  to  the  country,"  answered  Kitty, 
blushing. 

"  Give  my  love  to  him  ;  now  don't  forget !  " 

"  I  will  do  it,  certainly,"  said  Kitty,  simply,  with  a  com- 
passionate look. 

"  So,  pras/ic/iai',  Dolly,  good-by,"  said  Anna,  kissing 
her ;  and,  shaking  hands  with  Kitty,  she  hastened  away. 

"She  is  as  fascinating  as  ever,"  remarked  Kitty,  to 
her  sister,  when  Dolly  rejoined  Kitty.  "  And  how 
beautiful  she  is !  But  there  is  something  very  painful 
about  her....  terribly  painful." 


22^  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  She  does  n't  seem  to  be  in  her  usual  state  to-day.  1 
thought  she  came  near  bursting  into  tears,  when  I  accom- 
panied her  into  the  anteroom." 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

Anna  took  her  seat  in  her  carriage  in  an  even  unhap- 
pier  state  of  mind  than  she  had  been  when  she  left  her 
house.  In  addition  to  her  former  sufferings,  she  now 
felt  the  humiliation  and  sense  of  moral  degeneracy  which 
her  meeting  with  Kitty  had  clearly  made  evident. 

"  Where  would  you  wish  to  go  now  ?  Home  .-'  "  asked 
Piotr. 

"  Yes,  home,"  she  replied,  now  not  thinking  at  all 
where  she  was  going. 

"They  looked  on  me  as  some  strange,  incomprehen- 
sible curiosity.  —  What  can  that  man  be  saying  so 
eagerly  to  the  other  .-•  "  thought  she,  seeing  two  passers- 
by  talking  together.  "  Is  it  possible  to  say  what  one 
really  feels  ?  I  wanted  to  confess  to  Dolly,  and  I  am 
glad  that  I  kept  still.  How  she  would  have  rejoiced  at 
my  unhappiness !  She  would  have  tried  to  hide  it,  but 
at  heart  she  would  have  been  glad  ;  she  would  have 
thought  it  just  that  I  should  be  punished  for  that  happi- 
ness which  she  begrudged  me.  And  Kitty  would  have 
been  still  more  pleased.  How  I  read  her  through  and 
through !  She  knows  her  husband  liked  me  uncommonly 
well,  and  she  is  jealous,  and  hates  me;  and,  what 's  more, 
she  despises  me.  In  her  eyes,  I  am  an  immoral  woman. 
If  I  had  been  an  immoral  woman  I  might  have  made 
/lim  fall  in  love  with  me,  if  I  had  wanted  to !  I  confess 
I  thought  of  it.  —  There  goes  a  man  who  is  delighted 
with  his  own  looks,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  a  tall,  florid 
man  went  by,  and,  mistaking  her  for  an  acquaintance, 
lifted  his  shiny  hat  from  his  shiny  bald  head,  and 
instantly  recognized  his  mistake. 

"  He  thought  he  knew  me  !  He  knows  me  quite  as 
well  as  any  one  in  the  world  knows  me.  I  don't  know 
myself  ;  I  only  know  my  appetites,  as  the  French  say.  — ■ 


ANNA    KARENINA  325 

They  covet  some  of  that  bad  ice-cream,"  she  said  to 
herself,  as  she  watched  two  little  street  children  stand- 
ing in  front  of  a  vender,  who  had  just  set  down  from 
his  head  his  tub  of  ice-cream,  and  was  wiping  his  face 
with  a  corner  of  his  coat. 

"  We  all  want  our  sweet  delicacies ;  if  not  sugar- 
plums, then  bad  ice-cream,  just  like  Kitty,  who,  not 
catching  Vronsky,  took  Levin.  She  envies  me,  she 
hates  me ;  and  we  all  hate  one  another,  I  Kitty,  and 
Kitty  me.     That  is  a  fact. —  Tiutkin  coiffeur — Jc  viefais 

coiffer  par    Tiutkin I    will    tell    him    this    nonsense 

when  he  comes,"  thought  she,  and  smiled,  and  then 
instantly  remembered  that  there  was  no  one  now  to 
whom  she  could  tell  amusing  things.  "There  is  noth- 
ing amusing,  nothing  gay ;  it  is  all  disgusting.  The 
vesper-bell  is  ringing,  and  that  storekeeper  is  crossing 
himself  so  quickly  that  one  would  think  he  was  afraid 
of  losing  the  chance. 

"Why  these  churches,  these  bells,  these  lies .-'  Just 
to  hide  the  fact  that  we  all  hate  one  another,  like  those 
izvoshchiks  who  are  swearing  at  each  other  so  angrily. 
Yashvin  was  right  when  he  said,  '  He  is  after  my  shirt, 
and  I  am  after  his.'     That  is  a  fact." 

She  was  so  engrossed  by  these  thoughts  that  she  for- 
got her  grief  for  a  while,  and  was  surprised  when  the 
carriage  stopped  in  front  of  her  house.  The  sight  of 
the  Swiss,  coming  to  meet  her,  reminded  her  that  she 
had  sent  a  letter  and  a  telegram. 

"Is  there  an  answer  yet .-'  " 

"I  will  go  and  see,"  said  the  Swiss;  and,  looking  on 
the  secretary,  he  came  back  in  a  moment  with  a  tele- 
gram in  a  thin,  square  envelop.     Anna  read  :  — 

I  cannot  be  back  before  ten  o  'clock.     Vronsky. 

"  And  has  the  messenger  come  back.-*  " 

"Not  yet,"  replied  the  Swiss. 

"  Ah  !  if  that  is  so,  then  I  know  what  I  must  do ; " 
and,  feeling  a  vague  sense  of  anger  and  a  desire  for 
vengeance  arising  in  her  soul,  she  ran  up-stairs. 

"  I     myself   will    go    and   find    him,"    thought    she. 


326  ANNA    KARENINA 

"  Before  I  go  away  forever,  I  will  tell  him  all.  I  never 
hated  any  one  as  I  hate  this  man  !  " 

And  when  she  caught  sight  of  Vronsky's  hat  hanging 
on  the  peg,  she  shivered  with  aversion.  She  did  not 
reflect  that  the  despatch  was  in  answer  to  her  telegram, 
and  that  he  could  not  as  yet  have  received  her  note. 
She  imagined  him  now  chatting  gayly  with  his  mother 
and  the  Princess  Sorokin,  without  a  thought  of  her 
suffering. 

"  Yes,  I  must  go  as  quickly  as  possible,"  she  said,  not 
knowing  at  all  whither  she  should  go. 

She  felt  that  she  must  fly  from  the  thoughts  that 
oppressed  her  in  this  terrible  house.  The  servants,  the 
walls,  the  furniture,  everything  about  it,  filled  her  with 
disgust  and  pain,  and  crushed  her  with  a  terrible 
weight. 

"  Yes,  I  must  go  to  the  railroad  station,  and  if  not 
there,  then  somewhere  else,  to  punish  him." 

She  looked  at  the  time-table  in  the  newspaper.  The 
evening  train  went  at  two  minutes  past  eight. 

"Yes,  I  shall  have  plenty  of  time." 

She  ordered  the  two  other  horses  to  be  harnessed,  and 
she  had  transferred  from  her  trunk  to  her  traveling-bag 
things  enough  to  last  for  several  days.  She  knew  that 
she  should  never  come  back  again.  She  revolved  a 
thousand  plans  in  her  head,  and  determined  that  when 
she  had  done  what  she  had  in  mind  to  do,  either  at  the 
countess's  country  seat,  or  at  the  station,  she  would  go 
to  the  first  city  on  the  Nizhni  Novgorod  Railway  and 
stay  there. 

Dinner  was  on  the  table.  She  went  to  it,  smelt  the 
bread  and  cheese,  and  persuading  herself  that  the  odor 
of  the  victuals  was  repugnant  to  her,  she  ordered 
the  carriage  again,  and  went  out.  The  house  was 
already  casting  a  shadow  across  the  wide  street ;  but 
the  sky  was  clear,  and  it  was  warm  in  the  sun.  An- 
nushka,  who  brought  her  things,  and  Piotr,  who  carried 
them  to  the  carriage,  and  the  coachman,  who  was  evi- 
dently angry,  all  were  disagreeable  to  her,  and  vexed 
her  with  their  words  and  motions. 


ANNA    KARENINA 


327 


•'  I  do  not  need  you,  Piotr." 

"  Who  will  get  your  ticket  ?  " 

"  Well,  go  if  you  wish  ;  it  makes  no  difference  to  me," 
she  said  pettishly. 

Piotr  nimbly  mounted  the  box,  and,  folding  his  arms, 
ordered  the  coachman  to  drive  to  the  station. 


CHAPTER   XXX 

"  Now  I  am  myself  again.  Now  I  remember  it  all," 
said  Anna  to  herself,  as  soon  as  the  calash  started,  and, 
rocking  a  little,  rattled  along  over  the  cobble-stones  of 
the  pavement ;  and  once  more  her  impressions  began  to- 
go  whirling  through  her  mind. 

"  Yes,  what  was  that  good  thing  that  I  was  thinking 
about  last.'*  Tiutkin,  the  coiffeiir?  Oh,  no;  not  that. 
Oh,  yes ;  what  Yashvin  said  about  the  struggle  for 
existence,  and  hatred,  the  only  thing  that  unites  men. 
No  ;  we  go  at  haphazard." 

She  saw  in  a  carriage  drawn  by  four  horses  a  party 
of  merrymakers,  who  had  evidently  come  to  the  city  for 
a  pleasure-trip. 

"And  the  dog  which  you  take  with  you  does  not  help 
you  at  all.  You  can't  get  out  of  yourself."  Glancing 
in  the  direction  where  Piotr  was  turning,  she  saw  a 
working-man  almost  dead  drunk,  who,  with  a  flopping 
head,  was  being  led  by  a  policeman.  She  added  :  "  That 
man's  way  is  quicker.  Count  Vronsky  and  I  did  not 
reach  this  pleasure,  though  we  expected  much." 

And  now  for  the  first  time  Anna  turned  this  bright 
light,  all-reveahng,  upon  her  relations  with  the  count ; 
hitherto  she  had  steadfastly  refused  to  do  so. 

"  What  did  he  seek  in  me }  A  satisfaction  for  his 
vanity,  rather  than  for  his  love  !  " 

She  remembered  Vronsky's  words,  and  the  expression 
of  his  face,  which  reminded  her  of  a  submissive  dog, 
when  they  first  met  and  loved.  Everything  seemed  a 
confirmation  of  this  thought. 

"Yes;    he  cared  for  the  triumph   of    success    above 


328  ANNA    KARENINA 

everything.  Of  course,  he  loved  me,  but  chiefly  from 
vanity.  Now  that  he  is  not  proud  of  me  any  more,  it  is 
over.  He  is  ashamed  of  me.  He  has  taken  from  me 
all  that  he  could  take,  and  now  I  am  of  no  use  to  him. 
I  weigh  upon  him,  and  he  does  not  want  to  be  in  dis- 
honorable relationship  with  me.  He  said,  yesterday,  he 
wanted  the  divorce  and  to  marry  me  so  as  to  burn  his 
ships.  Perhaps  he  loves  me  still, — but  how?  The 
zest  is  gone,"  she  said  in  English.  —  "  That  man  likes 
to  show  off,  and  he  is  mighty  proud  of  himself,"  she 
added,  as  she  looked  at  a  ruddy-faced  man  riding  by  on 
a  hired  horse. 

"  There  is  nothing  about  me  any  longer  to  his  taste. 
If  I  leave  him,  he  will  rejoice  in  the  bottom  of  his  heart." 

This  was  not  mere  hypothesis ;  she  saw  this  clearly, 
in  that  penetrating  light  which  now  revealed  to  her  the 
meaning  of  life  and  of  her  false  relations. 

*'  My  love  has  been  growing  more  and  more  passion- 
ate and  selfish  ;  his  has  been  growing  fainter  and  fainter. 
That  is  why  we  cannot  get  on  together."  She  went  on 
thinking.  "  There  can't  be  any  help  for  it.  He  is  all  in 
all  to  me.  I  struggle  to  draw  him  closer  and  closer  to 
me,  and  he  wants  to  fly  from  me.  Up  to  the  time  of 
our  union,  we  flew  to  meet  each  other  ;  but  now  we  move 
irresistibly  apart.  This  cannot  be  altered.  He  accuses 
me  of  being  absurdly  jealous,  —  and  I  am ;  I  confess 
that  I  am  absurdly  jealous,  and  yet  I  am  not  either.  I  am 
not  jealous,  but  my  love  is  no  longer  satisfied.  But ....  " 
she  opened  her  mouth  to  speak,  and,  in  the  excitement 
caused  by  the  stress  of  her  thoughts,  she  changed  her 
place  in  the  carriage. 

"  If  I  could  only  be  something  else  than  a  passionate 
mistress,  but  I  cannot,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  be ;  and  by 
this  very  wish  I  awake  his  dislike  of  me,  while  he  stirs 
up  all  my  evil  passions,  and  this  cannot  be  otherwise. 

"  Don't  I  know  that  he  would  not  deceive  me,  that  he 
is  no  longer  in  love  with  Kitty,  that  he  has  no  intention 
of  marrying  Sorokina  ?  I  know  it  well,  but  it  is  none 
the  easier  for  me.  If  now  that  he  no  longer  loves  me, 
he  is  kind,  affectionate  to  me,  merely  from  a  se?ise  of 


ANNA    KARENINA  329 

duty,  but  cannot  be  what  I  must  have,  that  would  be  a 
thousand  times  worse  than  to  have  him  angry  with  me. 
That  would  be  —  hell!  And  so  it  is.  He  has  long 
ceased  to  love  me.  When  love  ceases,  hate  begins.  —  I 
don't  know  these  streets  at  all.  What  hosts  of  houses  ! 
in  them,  people,  people,  —  no  end  of  them  !  and  they 
all  hate  one  another  ! 

"Well!  let  me  think  what  could  happen  to  me  now 
that  would  give  me  happiness  again  .''  Suppose  that 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  should  consent  to  the  divorce, 
and  would  give  me  back  Serozha,  and  that  I  should  marry 
Vronsky.-' " 

And  as  she  thought  of  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  Anna 
could  see  him  with  extraordinary  vividness  before  her," 
as  if  alive,  with  his  dull,  lifeless,  faded  eyes,  his  white, 
blue-veined  hands,  and  his  cracking  joints,  and  the  in- 
tonations of  his  voice,  and,  as  she  recalled  their  relation 
to  each  other,  which  had  been  called  love,  she  shuddered 
with  aversion. 

"  Well !  Suppose  I  got  the  divorce,  and  were  married 
to  Vronsky,  would  not  Kitty  still  look  at  me  as  she 
looked  at  me  to-day }  She  certainly  would.  Would 
not  Serozha  ask  and  wonder  why  I  had  two  husbands .' 
But  between  me  and  Vronsky  what  new  feeling  could  I 
imagine .''  Is  it  possible  that  our  relations  might  be,  if 
not  pleasanter,  at  least  not  so  tormenting  as  they  are 
now  }  No,  and  no  !  "  she  replied,  without  the  least  hesi- 
tation. "  Impossible  !  We  are  growing  apart ;  and  I 
make  him  unhappy ;  he  makes  me  unhappy,  and  I  can- 
not change  him  ;  every  means  has  been  tried.  The  screw 
has  been  turned  for  the  last  time 

"  Now,  there 's  a  beggar  with  a  child.  She  thinks 
she  inspires  pity.  Were  we  not  thrown  into  the  world 
to  hate  one  another,  and  to  torment  ourselves  and  every- 
body else .''  Here  come  the  schoolboys  out  to  play ! 
Serozha .'' " 

It  reminded  her  of  her  son. 

"  I  used  to  think  that  I  loved  him,  and  I  was  touched 
by  his  gentleness.  I  have  lived  without  him,  I  have 
given  him  up  for  my  love,  and  was  not  sorry  for  the 


jjo  ANNA    KARENINA 

change,  as  long  as  I  was  contented  with  him  whom  I 
loved." 

And  she  remem.bered  with  disgust  what  she  caiied 
that  love.  And  the  clearness  with  which  she  now  saw 
her  own  life,  as  well  as  the  lives  of  others,  delighted 
her. 

"Thus  am  I,  and  Piotr  and  the  coachman,  Feodor, 
and  that  merchant,  and  all  people  from  here  to  the 
Volga,  wherever  these  remarks  are  applicable ....  and 
everywhere  and  always,"  she  thought,  as  the  carriage 
stopped  in  front  of  the  low-roofed  station  of  the  Nizhni 
Novgorod  Railway,  and  the  porters  came  hurrying  out 
to  meet  her. 

"  Shall  I  book  you  for  Obiralovka  ? "  asked  Piotr. 

She  had  entirely  forgotten  why  she  had  come,  and 
only  by  a  great  effort  could  she  understand  what  he 
meant. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  handing  him  her  purse ;  and,  taking 
her  little  red  bag,  she  got  out  of  the  carriage.  As  she 
entered  the  waiting-room  for  the  first-class  passengers 
with  the  throng,  she  reviewed  all  the  details  of  her  situ- 
ation and  the  plans  between  which  she  was  halting. 
And  again  hope  and  despair  in  alternation  irritated  the 
wounds  in  her  tortured,  cruelly  palpitating  heart.  As 
she  sat  on  the  stelliform  divan  waiting  for  the  train,  she 
looked  with  aversion  on  the  people  going  and  coming,  — 
they  were  all  her  enemies,  —  and  thought  now  of  how, 
when  she  reached  the  station,  she  would  write  to  him, 
and  what  she  would  write,  and  then  how  at  this  very 
moment  he  —  not  thinking  of  her  suffering  —  was  com- 
plaining to  his  mother  of  his  position,  and  how  she 
would  go  to  his  room,  and  what  she  would  say  to  him. 

The  thought  that  she  might  yet  live  happily  crossed 
her  brain ;  and  how  hard  it  was  to  love  and  hate  him  at 
the  same  time !  And,  above  all,  how  frightfully  her 
heart  was  beating ! 


ANNA    KARENINA 


CHAPTER   XXXI 


33  J 


A  BELL  sounded,  and  some  impudent  young  men,  ugly 
and  vulgar,  and  yet  mindful  of  the  impression  they  pro- 
duced, hurried  before  her.  Then  Piotr,  in  his  livery 
and  top-boots,  with  his  dull,  good-natured  face,  crossed 
the  waiting-room,  and  came  up  to  escort  her  to  the  car- 
riage. The  noisy  men  about  the  door  stopped  talking 
while  she  passed  out  on  the  platform ;  then  one  of  them 
whispered  to  his  neighbor  some  remark,  which  was  ap- 
parently impudent.  Anna  mounted  the  high  steps,  and 
sat  down  alone  in  the  compartment  on  the  dirty  sofa 
which  once  had  been  white,  and  laid  her  bag  beside  her 
on  the  springy  seat.  Piotr,  at  the  window,  raised  his 
gold-laced  hat,  with  an  inane  smile,  for  a  farewell,  and 
departed.  The  saucy  conductor  shut  the  door.  A 
woman,  deformed,  and  ridiculously  dressed  up,  followed 
by  a  little  girl  laughing  affectedly,  passed  below  the  car- 
window.  Anna  looked  at  her  with  disgust.  "  Katerina 
Andreyevna  has  everything,  via  tante^'  screamed  the  little 
girl. 

"  That  child,  even  she  is  grotesque  and  makes  gri- 
maces," thought  Anna ;  and  she  seated  herself  at  the 
opposite  window  of  the  empty  apartment,  to  avoid  seeing 
the  people. 

A  dirty  hunchback  muzhik  passed  close  to  the  win- 
dow, and  examined  the  car-wheels ;  he  wore  a  cap, 
from  beneath  which  could  be  seen  tufts  of  disheveled 
hair. 

"  There  is  something  familiar  about  that  humpbacked 
muzhik,"  thought  Anna ;  and  suddenly  she  remembered 
her  nightmare,  and  drew  back,  trembling  with  fright, 
toward  the  carriage-door,  which  the  conductor  was  just 
opening  to  admit  a  lady  and  gentleman. 

"  Do  you  want  to  get  out .''  " 

Anna  did  not  answer  ;  under  her  veil  the  conductor  and 
the  passengers  did  not  see  the  horror  in  her  face.  She 
returned  to  her  corner  and  sat  down  again.  The  couple 
took  seats  opposite  her,  and  cast  stealthy  but  curious 


332  ANNA   KARENINA 

glances  at  her  gown.  The  husband  and  wife  were  ob. 
noxious  to  her.  The  husband  asked  her  if  she  objected 
to  smoking,  —  evidently  not  for  the  sake  of  smoking, 
but  as  an  excuse  for  entering  into  conversation  with 
her.  Having  obtained  her  permission,  he  remarked  to 
his  wife  in  French  that  he  felt  even  more  inclined  to 
talk  than  to  smoke.  They  exchanged  stupid  remarks, 
with  the  hope  of  attracting  Anna's  attention. 

Anna  clearly  saw  how  they  bored  each  other,  how 
they  hated  each  other.  It  was  impossible  not  to  hate 
such  painful  monstrosities. 

The  second  gong  sounded,  and  was  followed  by  the 
rumble  of  baggage,  noise,  shouts,  laughter.  Anna  saw 
so  clearly  that  there  was  nothing  to  rejoice  at,  that  this 
laughter  roused  her  indignation,  and  she  longed  to  stop 
her  ears  so  as  not  to  hear  it. 

At  last  the  third  signal  was  given,  the  locomotive 
whistled,  there  was  a  sound  of  escaping  steam,  the  train 
started,  and  the  gentleman  crossed  himself. 

"  It  would  be  interesting  to  ask  him  what  he  meant  by 
that,"  thought  Anna,  looking  at  him  angrily.  Then  she 
looked  past  the  woman's  head,  out  of  the  car-window, 
at  the  people  apparently  moving  backward  even  while 
they  were  standing  and  walking  on  the  platform.  The 
carriage  in  which  Anna  sat  moved  past  the  stone  walls 
of  the  station,  the  switches,  the  other  carriages.  The 
wheels  with  a  ringing  sound  moved  more  easily  and 
smoothly  over  the  rails ;  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun 
slanted  into  the  car-window,  and  a  light  breeze  played 
through  the  slats  of  the  bhnds  in  the  carriages,  and 
Anna  forgot  her  neighbors,  breathed  in  the  fresh  air, 
and  took  up  again  the  course  of  her  thoughts. 

"  There  !  What  was  I  thinkmg  about .''  Oh,  yes,  I 
was  just  deciding  that  I  could  not  imagine  any  situa- 
tion in  which  my  life  could  be  anything  but  one  long 
misery.  We  are  all  dedicated  to  unhappiness ;  we  all 
know  it,  and  only  seek  for  ways  to  deceive  ourselves^ 
But  when  we  see  the  truth,  what  is  to  be  done  ? " 

'-  Reason  was  given  to  man,  that  he  might  avoid  what 
annoys  him,"  remarked  the  woman,  in  French,  appar- 


ANNA    KARENINA  3;^^ 

ently  delighted  with  her  sentence,  and  putting  out  her 
tongue. 

The  words  fitted  in  with  Anna's  thought. 

"  To  avoid  what  annoys  him,"  she  repeated,  and  a 
glance  at  the  red-faced  man,  and  his  thin  companion, 
showed  her  that  the  woman  looked  on  herself  as  a  mis- 
understood creature,  and  that  her  stout  husband  did  not 
contradict  this  opinion,  and  took  advantage  of  it  to  de- 
ceive her.  Anna,  as  it  were,  read  their  history,  and 
looked  into  the  most  secret  depths  of  their  hearts ;  but 
it  was  not  interesting,  and  she  went  on  with  her 
reflections. 

"  Yes,  it  annoys  me  very  much,  and  reason  was  given 
to  avoid  it ;  therefore  it  must  be  done.  Why  not  extin-- 
guish  the  light  when  it  shines  on  things  disgusting  to 
see  .-*  But  how  ?  Why  does  the  conductor  keep  hurry- 
ing through  the  car  ?  Why  do  the  young  people  in  this 
carriage  scream  so  loud  .-*  Why  do  they  speak  .■*  What 
are  they  laughing  at  ?  It  is  all  false,  all  a  lie,  all  decep- 
tion, all  vanity  and  vexation." 

When  the  train  reached  the  station,  Anna  went  out 
with  the  other  passengers,  and,  with  the  idea  of  avoiding 
too  rude  a  contact  with  the  bustling  crowd,  she  hesitated 
on  the  platform,  trying  to  recollect  why  she  had  come, 
and  what  she  meant  to  do.  All  that  seemed  to  her  pos- 
sible before  to  do,  now  seemed  to  her  difficult  to  exe- 
cute, especially  amid  this  noisy  crowd,  which  would  not 
leave  her  in  peace.  Now  the  porters  came  to  her,  to 
offer  her  their  services  ;  now  some  young  men,  clattering 
with  their  heels  up  and  down  the  platform,  and  talking 
loud,  observed  her  curiously ;  now  hurrying  passengers 
pushed  her  aside. 

Finally,  remembering  that  she  was  proposing  to  go 
farther  if  there  was  no  answer  from  Vronsky,  she 
stopped  an  official,  and  asked  him  if  a  coachman  had 
not  been  there  with  a  letter  for  Count  Vronsky. 

"  Count  Vronsky .-'  Just  now  some  one  was  here. 
Princess  Sorokin  and  her  daughter  met  him.  What 
kind  of  a  looking  man  is  this  coachman  .-•" 

Even  while  she  was  talking  with  the  official,  the  coach* 


334  ANNA    KARENINA 

man  Mikhail,  rosy  and  gay  in  his  elegant  blue  livery  and 
watch-chain,  immensely  proud  that  he  had  fulfilled  his 
commission  so  well,  came  to  her  and  handed  her  a 
note. 

Anna  broke  the  seal,  and  her  heart  stood  still  even 
before  she  had  read  the  carelessly  written  lines :  — 

I  am  very  sorry  that  your  note  did  not  find  me  in  Moscow. 
I  shall  return  at  ten  o'clock. 

"Yes,  that  is  what  I  expected,"  she  said  to  herself, 
with  an  angry  grimace. 

"  Very  good,  you  may  go  home,"  she  said  to  Mikhail. 

She  spoke  the  words  slowly  and  gently,  because  the 
tumultuous  beating  of  her  heart  almost  prevented  her 
from  breathing. 

"  No,  I  will  not  let  you  make  me  suffer  so,"  thought 
she,  addressing,  with  a  threat,  neither  Vronsky  nor  her 
own  self,  so  much  as  the  thought  that  was  torturing  her  ; 
and  she  moved  along  the  platform,  past  the  station. 
Two  chambermaids  walking  on  the  platform  turned  to 
look  at  her,  and  made  audible  remarks  about  her  toilet. 
"  She  has  genuine  lace,"  they  said.  The  young  men 
would  not  leave  her  in  peace.  They  stared  at  her,  and 
passed  her  again  and  again,  joking  and  talking  with  loud 
voices.  The  station-master  came  to  her,  and  asked  if 
she  was  going  to  take  the  train.  A  lad  selling  kvas  did 
not  take  his  eyes  from  her. 

*' Boahe  mo'i!  where  shall  I  go.''"  she  said  to  her- 
self, as  she  walked  farther  and  farther  along  the  plat- 
form. 

When  she  reached  the  end  of  it,  she  stopped.  Some 
women  and  children,  who  had  come  to  the  station  to 
meet  a  man  in  spectacles,  were  talking  and  laughing. 
They  too  stopped  talking,  and  turned  to  see  Anna  pass 
by.  She  hastened  her  steps,  and  reached  the  very  limit 
of  the  platform.  A  freight-train  was  coming.  The  plat- 
form shook,  and  made  her  feel  as  if  she  were  on  a  mov- 
ing train. 

Suddenly  she  remembered  the  man  who  was  run  over 
on  the  day  when  she  met  Vronsky  for  the  first  time,  and 


ANNA    KARENINA  3:^s 

sue  knew  then  what  was  left  for  her  to  do.  With  Hght 
and  swift  steps  she  descended  the  stairway  which  led 
from  the  water-tank  at  the  end  of  the  platform  down  to 
the  rails,  and  stood  very  near  the  train,  which  was  slowly 
passing  by.  She  looked  under  the  cars,  at  the  chains 
and  the  brake,  and  at  the  high  iron  wheels  of  the  first 
car,  and  she  tried  to  estimate  with  her  eye  the  distance 
between  the  fore  and  back  wheels,  and  the  moment  when 
the  middle  would  be  in  front  of  her. 

"There,"  she  said,  looking  at  the  shadow  of  the  car 
thrown  upon  the  black  coal-dust  which  covered  the 
sleepers,  "  there,  in  the  center  ;  he  will  be  punished, 
and  I  shall  be  delivered  from  it  all  ....  and  from  my- 
self." 

She  was  going  to  throw  herself  under  the  first  car  as 
its  center  came  opposite  where  she  stood.  Her  little  red 
traveling-bag  caused  her  to  lose  the  moment ;  she  could 
not  detach  it  from  her  arm.  She  awaited  the  second. 
A  feeling  like  that  she  had  experienced  once,  just  before 
taking  a  dive  in  the  river,  came  over  her,  and  she  made 
the  sign  of  the  cross.  This  familiar  gesture  called  back 
to  her  soul  a  whole  series  of  memories  of  her  youth  and 
childhood  ;  and  suddenly  the  darkness  which  hid  every- 
thing from  her  was  torn  asunder.  Life,  with  its  elusive 
joys,  glowed  for  an  instant  before  her.  But  she  did  not 
take  her  eyes  from  the  car ;  and  when  the  center,  be- 
tween the  two  wheels,  appeared,  she  threw  away  her 
red  bag,  drawing  her  head  between  her  shoulders,  and, 
with  outstretched  hands,  threw  herself  on  her  knees 
under  the  car.  For  a  second  she  was  horror-struck  at 
what  she  was  doing. 

"  Where  am  I  ?     What  am  I  doing  ?     Why  ?  " 

She  tried  to  get  up,  to  draw  back ;  but  something 
monstrous,  inflexible,  struck  her  head,  and  threw  her  on 
her  back. 

"  Lord,  forgive  me  all !  "  she  murmured,  feeling  the 
struggle  to  be  in  vain. 

A  little  muzhik  was  working  on  the  railroad,  mumbling 
in  his  beard. 

And   the   candle   by  which   she  had    read  the   book 


336  ANNA    KARENINA 

that  was  filled  with  fears,  with  deceptions,  with  anguish, 
and  with  evil,  flared  up  with  greater  brightness  than  she 
had  ever  known,  revealing  to  her  all  that  before  was 
in  darkness,  then  flickered,  grew  faint,  and  went  out 
forever. 


PART   EIGHTH 


CHAPTER   I 

ALMOST  two  months  had  passed  by,  half  the  hot 
summer  was  gone,  but  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  had  only 
just  made  up  his  mind  to  leave  Moscow.  An  important 
event  for  him  had  just  occurred.  The  year  before  he 
had  finished  his  book,  entitled,  "  An  Essay  on  the  Prin- 
ciples and  the  Forms  of  Government  in  Europe  and  in 
Russia,"  the  fruit  of  six  years  of  labor.  The  introduc- 
tion, as  well  as  some  fragments  from  the  book,  had 
already  appeared  in  the  reviews,  and  certain  parts  had 
been  read  by  the  author  to  the  people  of  his  circle,  so 
that  the  ideas  contained  in  this  treatise  could  not  be  a 
perfect  novelty  for  the  public;  but  nevertheless  Sergyei 
Ivanovitch  expected  that  the  book  on  its  appearance 
would  attract  serious  attention,  and  produce,  if  not  a 
revolution  in  science,  at  least  a  powerful  sensation  in 
the  learned  world. 

This  book,  after  careful  revision,  had  been  published 
the  year  before,  and  distributed  among  the  booksellers. 

Though  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  answered  reluctantly  and 
with  pretended  indifference  the  questions  of  his  friends 
who  asked  how  the  book  was  going,  and  though  he 
refrained  from  inquiring  of  the  booksellers  how  it 
was  selling,  nevertheless  he  followed  eagerly  and  with 
strained  attention  every  sign  of  the  impression  which 
his  book  was  producing  on  society  and  literature. 

But  a  week  passed,  a  second,  a  third,  and  there  was 
not  a  sign  of  any  impression.  His  friends,  specialists 
and  savants,  evidently  out  of  politeness,  spoke  to  him 
about  it ;  but  the  rest  of  his  acquaintances,  not  being 
interested  in  a  book  of  scientific  purport,  did  not  speak 
about  it  at  all.  Society,  also,  which  just  at  that  tim^ 
VOL.  in.  —  22  337 


338  ANNA    KARENINA 

was  preoccupied  with  entirely  different  matters,  showed 
utter  unconcern.  In  literary  circles,  also,  during  the 
lapse  of  a  month,  there  was  not  a  word  about  his  book. 
SergyeT  Ivanovitch  carefully  calculated  the  time  neces- 
sary for  preparing  critical  reviews,  but  months  passed 
by  and  there  also  was  absolute  silence. 

Only  in  the  Northern  Beetle,  in  a  facetious  feiiilleton 
regarding  the  singer  Drabanti,  who  had  lost  his  voice, 
a  few  scornful  words  were  said  in  regard  to  Koznuishef's 
book,  showing  that  it  had  already  been  criticized  by 
all,  and  was  given  over  to  universal  ridicule.  At  length, 
after  three  months,  a  critical  article  appeared  in  a  journal 
of  importance.  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  knew  who  the  author 
was.     He  had  met  him  once  at  Golubtsof's. 

He  was  a  very  young  and  feeble  critic,  very  clever  as 
a  writer,  but  perfectly  uneducated,  and  cowardly  in  his 
private  relations. 

Notwithstanding  Sergyei"  Ivanovitch's  contempt  of 
the  author,  he  began  to  read  the  article  with  extraordi- 
nary interest.     It  proved  to  be  abominable. 

Evidently,  the  critic  understood  the  whole  book  just 
exactly  as  he  should  not  have  understood  it.  But  he 
had  so  cleverly  put  together  a  selection  of  extracts,  that 
for  those  who  had  not  read  the  book  —  and  apparently 
almost  no  one  had  read  it  —  it  was  perfectly  clear  that 
the  entire  book,  in  spite  of  its  high  pretensions,  was 
nothing  but  a  tissue  of  pompous  phrases,  and  these  not 
always  intelligible,  as  the  critic's  frequent  interrogation 
points  testified,  and  that  the  author  of  the  work  was  a 
perfect  ignoramus ;  and  it  was  done  in  such  a  witty  way 
that  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  himself  could  not  deny  the  wit 
of  it ;  but,  after  all,  it  was  abominable. 

Sergyei'  Ivanovitch,  in  spite  of  the  unusual  conscien- 
tiousness with  which  he  examined  into  the  justice  of 
these  remarks,  did  not  for  a  moment  think  of  answer- 
ing the  ridiculous  errors  and  blunders ;  but  he  could  not 
help  instantly  remembering  all  the  least  details  of  his 
meeting  and  conversation  with  the  author  of  the  article. 
"  Did  I  say  anything  to  affront  him  .-• "  said  Sergyei 
Ivanovitch. 


ANNA    KARENINA  339 

An6  remembering  how,  when  he  met  the  young 
author  of  the  article,  he  had  shown  up  his  ignorance 
in  conversation,  he,  therefore,  understood  the  animus  of 
the  criticism. 

The  appearance  of  this  article  was  followed  by  a 
silence,  unbroken  by  either  voice  or  journal,  and  Ser- 
gyei  Ivanovitch  saw  that  his  six  years'  labor,  into  which 
he  had  put  so  much  of  his  heart  and  soul,  had  been 
wasted. 

And  his  position  was  made  all  the  more  trying  be- 
cause, now  that  his  book  was  off  his  hands,  he  had 
nothing  especial  to  occupy  the  larger  part  of  his  time. 

He  was  bright,  well  educated,  in  perfect  health,  and 
very  active ;  and  he  did  not  know  how  to  employ  his 
industry.  Conversations  with  callers,  visits  to  the  club, 
and  the  meetings  of  committees,  where  there  was  a 
chance  for  him  to  talk,  took  some  of  his  time ;  but  he, 
a  man  long  wonted  to  life  in  the  city,  did  not  permit 
himself  to  talk  with  every  one,  as  his  inexperienced 
brother  did  when  he  was  in  Moscow  ;  so  that  he  had 
much  leisure  and  a  superfluity  of  intellectual  energy. 

To  his  joy,  just  at  this  time,  which  was  so  trying  to 
him  because  of  the  failure  of  his  book,  and  after  his 
interest  in  dissenters,  American  subjects,  the  famine  in 
Samara,  expositions,  spiritualism,  was  exhausted,  the 
Slavic  question  began  to  engross  public  attention ;  and 
Sergyei  Ivanovitch,  who  had  been  one  of  its  earliest 
advocates,  gave  himself  up  to  it  with  enthusiasm. 

Among  Sergyei  Ivanovitch's  friends  nothing  else  was 
thought  about  or  talked  about  except  the  Serbian  war. 
All  the  things  that  lazy  people  are  accustomed  to  do 
was  done  for  the  help  of  these  brother  Slavs.  Balls, 
concerts,  dinners,  matches,  ladies'  finery,  beer,  drinking- 
saloons,  —  everything  bore  witness  of  sympathy  for  the 
Slavs. 

With  much  that  was  said  and  written  on  this  subject, 
Sergyei  Ivanovitch  could  not  agree.  He  saw  that  the 
Slav  question  was  one  of  those  fashionable  movements 
that  always  carry  people  to  extremes.  He  saw  that 
many   people   with    petty  personal    ends   in   view  took 


340  ANNA    KARENINA 

part  in  it.  He  recognized  that  the  newspapers  made 
many  useless  and  exaggerated  statements,  in  order  to 
attract  attention  to  themselves,  and  belittle  their  rivals. 
He  saw  that  in  this  common  impulse  of  society,  upstarts 
put  themselves  forward,  and  outdid  one  another  in  mak- 
ing a  noise, — commanders-in-chief  without  an  army, 
ministers  without  a  ministry,  journalists  without  a  jour- 
nal, party-leaders  without  partizans.  He  saw  much  that 
was  childish  and  absurd  ;  but  he  also  saw  and  admired 
the  enthusiasm  which  united  all  classes,  and  which  it 
was  impossible  not  to  share. 

The  massacre  of  the  Serbians,  who  professed  the  same 
faith,  and  spoke  almost  the  same  language,  aroused  sym- 
pathy for  their  sufferings,  and  indignation  against  their 
persecutors ;  and  the  heroism  of  the  Serbs  and  Mon- 
tenegrins, who  were  fighting  for  a  great  cause,  aroused 
a  universal  desire  to  help  their  brethren,  not  only  in 
word,  but  in  deed. 

But  there  was  another  phenomenon  which  delighted 
Sergyei  Ivanovitch  especially.  This  was  the  manifesta- 
tion of  public  opinion.  Society  actually  spoke  out  its 
desires.  "The  national  soul  received  expression,"  as 
Sergyei  Ivanovitch  expressed  it ;  and  the  more  he  studied 
this  movement  as  a  whole,  the  more  evidently  it  seemed 
to  him  that  it  was  destined  to  grow  to  enormous  propor- 
tions and  to  constitute  an  epoch. 

He  devoted  himself  to  the  service  of  this  great  cause, 
and  forgot  to  think  about  his  book. 

All  his  time  was  now  so  occupied  that  he  could 
scarcely  reply  to  the  letters  and  demands  made  upon 
him. 

He  had  worked  all  the  spring  and  a  part  of  the  sum- 
mer, and  only  in  the  month  of  July  could  he  tear  himself 
away  to  go  to  his  brother  in  the  country. 

He  went  for  a  fortnight's  vacation,  and  rejoiced  to 
find  even  in  the  depths  of  the  country,  in  the  very 
holy  of  holies  of  the  peasantry,  the  same  awakening  of 
the  national  spirit  in  which  he  himself  and  all  the 
inhabitants  of  the  capital  and  the  large  cities  of  the 
empire  firmly  believed. 


ANNA    KARENINA  341 

Katavasof  seized  the  opportunity  to  fulfil  a  promise 
he  had  made  to  visit  Levin,  and  the  two  friends  left 
town  together. 


CHAPTER   II 

Sergyei  Ivanovitch  and  Katavasof  had  just  reached 
the  station  of  the  Kursk  Railway,  which  was  especially 
crowded  that  day,  and,  leaving  their  carriage,  they  were 
looking  at  a  lackey  who  had  followed  them  laden  with 
various  articles,  when  four  cabs  filled  with  volunteers 
also  drove  up.  Ladies  carrying  bouquets  met  them,  and 
accompanied  by  a  crowd  they  entered  the  station. 

One  of  the  ladies  who  had  come  to  meet  the  volun- 
teers came  out  of  the  waiting-room  and  addressed  Sergyeif 
Ivanovitch. 

"  Did  you  also  come  to  see  them  off  ?  "  she  asked, 
speaking  in  French. 

"  No ;  I  am  going  myself,  princess,  to  have  a  little 
rest  at  my  brother's.  But  are  you  still  on  escort  duty .''  " 
he  added,  with  a  scarcely  perceptible  smile  of  amusement. 

"  I  have  to  be,"  replied  the  princess.  "  But  tell  me,  is 
it  true  that  we  have  sent  off  eight  hundred  already } 
Malvinsky  told  me  so." 

"  More  than  eight  hundred.  We  've  sent  off  more  than 
a  thousand,  if  we  count  those  not  immediately  from 
Moscow,"  said  Sergye'i  Ivanovitch. 

"There,  I  said  so  !  "  cried  the  lady,  delighted.  "  And 
is  it  true  that  the  subscriptions  amount  to  nearly  a 
million  ? " 

"  More  than  that,  princess." 

"  Have  you  read  the  news .''  They  have  beaten  the 
Turks  again." 

"  Yes,  I  read  about  it,"  replied  Sergyei  Ivanovitch. 
She  referred  to  a  recent  despatch,  which  confirmed  the 
report  that  three  days  before  the  Turks  had  been  beaten 
at  every  point,  and  had  fled,  and  that  the  next  day  a 
decisive  battle  was  expected. 

"Oh,  by  the   way,  do   you  know  a   splendid  young 


342  .  ANNA    KARENINA 

fellow  is  petitioning  to  go  ?  T  don't  see  why  they  put 
obstacles  in  his  way.  I  wanted  to  ask  you  to  put  your 
signature  on  his  petition.  I  know  him.  He  comes 
from  the  Countess   Lidia  Ivanovna." 

After  asking  some  particulars  in  regard  to  the  young 
man,  SergyeT  Ivanovitch  went  into  the  waiting-room, 
affixed  his  signature  to  the  document,  and  handed  it 
back  to  the  princess. 

"  Do  you  know  Count  Vronsky,  the  famous,  is  going 
on  this  train .'' "  said  the  princess,  with  a  triumphant  and 
significant  smile,  as  he  rejoined  her  and  handed  her  the 
petition. 

"I  heard  that  he  was  going;  but  I  did  not  know 
when.     On  this  train  .''  " 

"  I  just  saw  him.  He  is  here.  His  mother  is  the  only 
one  with  him.  All  things  considered,  I  do  not  think  he 
could  do  anything  better." 

"Oh,  yes!     Of  course." 

During  this  conversation  the  crowd  had  rushed  into 
the  restaurant  of  the  station,  where  a  man  with  a  glass 
in  his  hand  was  making  an  address  to  the  volunteers :  — 

"  For  the  service  of  our  faith  and  humanity  and  our 
brethren,"  he  said,  raising  his  voice,  "  Matushka  Moskva 
—  Mother  Moscow  —  gives  you  her  blessing  in  this  noble 
cause.  May  it  prosper  !  "  he  concluded,  with  tears  in  his 
eyes.  The  crowd  responded  with  cheers,  and-  a  fresh 
throng  poured  into  the  waiting-room,  nearly  overwhelm- 
ing the  princess. 

"  Ah,  princess !  What  do  you  say  to  this .'' "  cried 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  who,  with  a  radiant  smile  of  joy, 
suddenly  appeared  in  the  midst  of  the  throng.  "  Did  n't 
he  speak  gloriously  .-*  Bravo !  And  here 's  Sergyef 
Ivanovitch.  You  ought  to  speak  just  a  few  words,  you 
know,  of  encouragement,  you  do  it  so  well,"  added  Ob- 
lonsky,  touching  Koznuishef's  arm,  with  an  expression 
of  suave,  flattering  deference. 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  am  leaving  immediately." 

"Where.?" 

"  To  the  country  —  to  my  brother's,"  replied  Sergyel 
Ivanovitch. 


ANNA    KARENINA  343 

•'  Then  you  '11  see  my  wife.  I  have  written  her,  but 
you  '11  see  her  before  she  gets  my  letter.  Please  tell  her 
that  you  met  me,  and  everything  is  all  riglit,  she  will 
understand ;  and  be  so  good  as  to  tell  her,  too,  that  I  got 
my  place  as  member  of  the  Commission  of ....  Well,  she 
knows  what  that  is,  you  know,  Us  p elites  niistres  de  la 
vie  humaine,'"  said  he,  turning  to  the  princess,  as  if  in 
apology.  "  Miagkaia,  not  Liza,  but  Bibiche,  sends  a 
thousand  guns  and  twelve  hospital  nurses.  Did  I  tell 
you } " 

"  Yes  ;  I  heard  about  it,"  answered  Koznuishef,  coldly. 

"  But  what  a  pity  you  are  going  away,"  replied  Ste- 
pan  Arkadyevitch.  "  We  give  a  farewell  dinner  to-mor- 
row to  two  volunteers,  —  at  Dimer's,  —  Bartnyansky  of 
Petersburg,  and  our  Veslovsky  —  Grisha.  Both  are 
going.  Veslovsky  is  just  married.  He 's  a  fine  lad. 
Isn't  it  so, princess  .'' "  he  added,  addressing  the  lady. 

The  princess  did  not  reply,  but  looked  at  Koznuishef. 
The  fact  that  the  princess  and  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  evi- 
dently wanted  to  get  rid  of  him  did  not  in  the  least  dis- 
concert Stepan  Arkadyevitch.  Smiling,  he  glanced  now 
at  the  princess's  hat  plume,  now  off  to  one  side  or  the 
other  as  if  searching  for  a  new  subject ;  and,  as  he  saw 
a  lady  going  by  with  a  subscription-box,  he  beckoned 
to  her,  and  handed  her  a  five-ruble  note. 

"  I  can't  bear  to  see  these  subscription-boxes  pass  by 
me,  now  that  I  have  ready  money,"  he  said.  "What 
splendid  news  there  is  !     Hurrah  for  the  Montenegrins !  " 

"What's  that  you  say.-*"  he  cried,  when  the  princess 
told  him  that  Vronsky  was  going  by  the  first  train.  For 
an  instant  Stepan  Arkadyevitch's  face  grew  sad,  but  the 
next.moment,  slightly  limping  with  both  feet,  and  stroking 
his  side-whiskers,  he  went  off  to  the  room  where  Vronsky 
was.  He  had  already  entirely  forgotten  the  tears  he  had 
shed  over  his  sister's  grave,  and  saw  in  Vronsky  only  a 
hero  and  an  old  friend. 

"  One  must  do  him  justice,  in  spite  of  his  faults,"  said 
the  princess  to  Sergyei  Ivanovitch,  when  Oblonsky  was 
gone.  "  He  has  the  true  Russian,  the  Slavic,  nature. 
But  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  disagreeable   to   the   count 


344  ANNA    KARENINA 

to  see  him.  Whatever  people  may  say,  T  pity  that 
unhappy  man.  Try  to  talk  a  little  with  him  on  the 
journey,"  said  the  princess. 

"  Certainly,  if  I  have  a  chance." 

"  I  never  liked  him,  but  what  he  is  doing  now  makes 
up  for  much.  He  is  not  only  going  himself,  but  he 's 
taking  oat  a  squadron  of  cavalry  at  his  own  expense." 

"Yes,  so  I  have  heard." 

The  bell  rang,  and  the  crowd  pressed  toward  the  doors. 

"  There  he  is,"  said  the  princess,  pointing  out  Vronsky, 
who  was  dressed  in  a  long  coat  and  a  broad-brimmed 
black  hat.  His  mother  was  leaning  on  his  arm.  Ob- 
lonsky  followed  them,  talking  vivaciously. 

Vronsky  was  frowning,  and  looked  straight  ahead,  as 
if  not  listening  to  what  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  said. 

Apparently  at  Oblonsky's  suggestion,  he  looked  in 
the  direction  where  Sergye'i  Ivanovitch  and  the  princess 
were  standing,  and  raised  his  hat  silently. 

His  face,  which  had  grown  old  and  worn,  was  like 
stone.  Going  out  on  the  platform,  Vronsky,  silently 
quitting  his  mother's  side,  vanished  from  sight. in  his 
compartment. 

On  the  platform,  men  were  singing  the  national 
hymn.^  Then  hurrahs  and  vivas  resounded.  One  of 
the  volunteers,  a  tall,  very  young  man,  with  stooping 
shoulders,  ostentatiously  responded  to  the  pubhc,  wav- 
ing above  his  head  a  felt  hat  and  a  bouquet ;  while 
behind  him  two  officers,  and  an  elderly  man  with  a  full 
beard  and  a  greasy  cap,  put  out  their  heads,  also  bowing. 


CHAPTER   III 

After  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  had  taken  leave  of  the 
princess,  he  and  Katavasof,  who  had  joined  him,  entered 
their  carriage,  which  was  packed,  and  the  train  started. 

When  the  train  rolled  into  the  station  at  Tsaritsuino 
it  was  met  by  a  chorus  of  young  men  singing  the 
"  Slav'sa."     Again  the  volunteers  put  out  their  heads 

1  Bozhe  Tsar  a  Khrani,  "God  bless  the  Tsar." 


ANNA    KARENINA  345 

and  bowed,  but  Sergye'i  Tvanovitch  paid  no  attention  to 
them  ;  he  had  had  so  much  to  do  with  volunteers  that 
he  already  knew  this  general  type,  and  it  did  not  inter- 
est him.  But  Katavasof,  who  on  account  of  his  peda- 
gogical occupations  had  not  enjoyed  any  opportunity  to 
observe  the  men  who  volunteered,  was  very  much  inter- 
ested, and  asked  his  friend  about  them. 

Sergyei  Tvanovitch  advised  him  to  look  into  their 
carriage  and  talk  with  some  of  them. 

At  the  next  station,  Katavasof  followed  this  advice. 
As  soon  as  the  train  stopped,  he  went  into  the  second- 
class  carriage,  and  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  vol- 
unteers. 

Some  of  them  were  seated  in  a  corner  of  the  carriage, 
talking  noisily,  aware  that  they  were  attracting  the  at- 
tention of  the  other  passengers  and  of  Katavasof,  whom 
they  saw  come  in.  The  tall,  sunken-chested  young  man 
was  talking  louder  than  the  others.  He  was  evidently 
tipsy,  and  was  telling  the  story  of  .something  which  had 
happened  in  their  establishment. 

Opposite  him  sat  an  old  ofificer  in  the  Austrian  mili- 
tary jacket  of  the  Guard  uniform.  He  was  listening 
with  a  smile  to  the  narrator,  and  occasionally  prompting 
him.  A  third  volunteer,  in  an  artillery  uniform,  was 
sitting  on  a  box  near  them.     A  fourth  was  asleep. 

Katavasof  entered  into  conversation  with  the  youth, 
and  learned  that  he  had  been  a  rich  merchant  in  Mos- 
cow, who,  before  he  was  twenty-two  years  old,  had 
succeeded  in  squandering  a  considerable  fortune.  Ka- 
tavasof did  not  like  him,  because  he  was  effeminate, 
conceited,  and  sickly.  He  evidently  felt,  especially  now 
that  he  was  drunk,  that  he  was  doing  a  heroic  deed ; 
and  he  boasted  in  the  most  disagreeable  manner. 

The  second,  a  retired  ofificer,  also  impressed  Kata- 
vasof unpleasantly  ;  he  was  a  man  who  had  apparently 
tried  his  hand  at  everything ;  he  had  worked  on  a  rail- 
way, and  had  been  director  of  an  estate,  and  had  estab- 
lished a  factory ;  and  he  talked  of  everything  without 
any  necessity  of  doing  so,  and  often  used  words  which 
showed  his  ignorance. 


346  ANNA    KARENINA 

The  third,  the  artilleryman,  on  the  contrary,  pleased 
Katavasof  very  much.  He  was  a  modest  gentleman. 
He  was  evidently  disgusted  by  the  affected  knowledge 
of  the  retired  officer  and  the  young  merchant's  boasted 
heroism,  and  he  would  say  nothing  about  himself. 
When  Katavasof  asked  him  what  induced  him  to  go  to 
Serbia,  he  answered  modestly  :  — 

"  I  am  going  because  every  one  else  is  going.  We 
must  help  the  Serbians.     It  is  too  bad." 

"  They  have  very  few  of  our  artillerymen,  I  believe." 

"  My  service  in  the  artillery  was  very  short.  I  may 
be  assigned  to  the  infantry  or  the  cavalry." 

"  Why  in  the  infantry,  when  they  need  artillerymen 
more  than  all  .^ "  asked  Katavasof,  gathering  from  the 
artillerist's  age  that  he  must  have  already  reached  a 
considerable  rank. 

"  I  did  not  serve  very  long  in  the  artillery,  but  left 
the  service  when  I  was  only  a  yunker." 

And  he  began  to  explain  why  he  had  not  passed  his 
examination. 

All  this  together  produced  on  Katavasof  a  generally 
unpleasant  impression,  and  when  the  volunteers  rushed 
out  into  one  of  the  stations  to  get  something  to  drink, 
Katavasof  felt  the  desire  to  talk  with  some  one  so  as  to 
confirm  his  unfavorable  impression. 

One  of  his  fellow-travelers,  a  little  old  man  in  a  mili- 
tary paletot,  had  been  listening  all  the  time  to  Kata- 
vasof's  talk  with  the  volunteers.  As  the  two  were  left 
alone  together  in  the  carriage,  Katavasof  addressed 
him  :  — 

"  What  a  diversity  in  the  condition  of  all  these  men 
that  are  going  south,"  said  Katavasof,  vaguely,  wishing 
to  express  his  opinions  and  at  the  same  time  draw  out 
the  old  man's  views. 

The  old  man  was  a  soldier  who  had  fought  in  two 
campaigns,  and  he  knew  what  it  meant  to  go  to  war ; 
and  in  the  actions  and  words  of  these  gentlemen,  the 
bravery  with  which  they  kept  applying  themselves  to 
the  flask,  he  read  their  inferiority  as  soldiers.  More- 
over, his  residence  was  in  a  district  city,  and  he  wanted 


ANNA    KARENINA  347 

to  relate  how  from  that  place  a  good-for-nothing  fellow, 
a  drunkard  and  thief  whom  no  one  would  hire  as  a 
workman,  had  gone  as  a  soldier.  But,  knowing  by  ex- 
perience that  in  the  present  state  of  excitement  under 
which  society  was  laboring,  it  was  dangerous  to  express 
himself  frankly  against  the  general  sentiment,  and  espe- 
cially to  criticize  the  volunteers,  he  merely  looked  at/ 
Katavasof.  ' 

"  Well,  men  are  needed  there,"  said  he,  smiling  with 
his  eyes. 

And  they  began  to  talk  over  the  latest  war  news,  and 
each  of  them  concealed  from  the  other  his  doubt  whether 
a  battle  was  to  be  expected  on  the  next  day,  since,  ac- 
cording to  the  latest  report,  the  Turks  had  been  defeated 
at  all  points.  And  so  they  parted  without  either  of 
them  having  expressed  what  he  really  thought. 

When  Katavasof  returned  to  his  own  carriage,  he 
told  Sergyei  Ivanovitch,  with  some  twinges  of  con- 
science, that  he  enjoyed  talking  with  the  volunteers,  and 
he  declared  that  they  were  excellent  lads. 

In  the  great  station  where  they  next  stopped,  the 
chorus,  the  cheers,  the  bouquets,  and  the  beggars  again 
appeared,  and  again  the  ladies  with  bouquets  conducted 
the  volunteers  into  the  restaurant ;  but  there  was  much 
less  enthusiasm  than  there  had  been  at  Moscow. 


CHAPTER   IV 

While  the  train  stopped  at  a  certain  government 
capital,  Sergyef  Ivanovitch  did  not  go  to  the  restaurant, 
but  walked  up  and  down  the  platform. 

The  first  time  he  passed  Vronsky's  compartment,  he 
noticed  that  the  window  was  shaded.  But,  when  he 
passed  the  second  time,  he  saw  the  old  countess  at  the 
window.     She  called  him  to  her. 

"  You  see,  I  am  going  as  far  as  Kursk  with  him." 

"Yes,  I  heard  he  was  going,"  answered  Koznuishef, 
stopping    at   the   window,  and    looking  in,      "  What   a 


348  ANNA    KARENINA 

noble  action  on  his  part ! "  he  added,  seeing  that  VroR- 
sky  was  not  in  the  carriage. 

"Well !     What  coul^  he  do  after  his  misfortune  ? " 

"  What  a  horrible  thing  it  was  !  "  said  Sergyei'  Ivano* 
vitch. 

"  Akh  !  What  have  I  not  been  through  !  —  Yes,  do 
come  in. — Akh!  What  have  I  not  been  through!" 
she  repeated,  as  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  came  in  and  sat 
down  on  the  seat  beside  her.  "  You  could  not  imagine 
it.  For  six  weeks  he  never  said  a  word  to  any  one,  and 
he  only  ate  when  I  begged  him  to  do  so.  We  dared  not 
leave  him  alone  a  single  instant ;  we  took  away  every- 
thing which  he  might  kill  himself  with.  We  lived  on 
the  first  floor,  but  we  had  to  be  on  the  watch  all  the 
same.  You  know  he  shot  himself  once  before,  for  her 
sake,"  said  the  old  countess,  her  face  clouding  at  this 
remembrance;  "yes,  she  died  as  was  fit  for  such  a 
woman  to  die.  Even  the  death  she  chose  was  low  and 
wretched." 

"  It  is  not  for  us  to  judge  her,  countess,"  replied 
SergyeT  Ivanovitch,  with  a  sigh.  "  But  I  can  imagine 
what  you  have  suffered." 

"  Akh  !  Don't  speak  of  it !  My  son  was  with  me  at 
my  country  place.  A  note  was  brought  him.  He  an- 
swered immediately.  We  did  not  know  at  all  that  she 
was  at  the  station.  That  evening  I  had  just  gone  to  my 
room,  and  my  Mary  told  me  that  a  lady  had  thrown  her- 
self under  the  train.  I  felt  something  hke  a  shock.  I 
understood  instantly  what  had  happened;  I  knew  it  was 
she.  My  first  words  were,  '  Let  no  one  tell  the  count.' 
But  they  had  just  told  him.  His  coachman  was  at  the 
station  when  it  happened,  and  saw  it  all.  I  ran  to  my 
son's  room.  He  was  beside  himself ;  it  was  terrible  to 
see  him.  Without  speaking  one  word,  he  left  the 
house ;  and  what  he  found,  I  do  not  know ;  but  they 
brought  him  back  like  one  dead.  I  should  never  have 
known    him.     '  Prostration   complete,'    the   doctor   said. 

Then  he  became  almost  insane Akh!  What  can  be 

said  }  "  cried  the  countess,  waving  her  hands.  "  It  was 
a  terrible   time.     No ;    let    people   say  what  they  will, 


ANNA    KARENINA  349 

she  was  a  bad  woman.  Think  !  What  a  desperate  pas- 
sion she  was  in !  She  did  it  to  make  an  extraordinary 
sensation,  and  she  succeeded !  She  has  done  irrepara- 
ble injury  to  the  lives  of  two  men  of  rare  merit,  —  her 
husband  and  my  son,  —  and  ruined  herself." 

"  How  about  her  husband  .-'  " 

"  He  has  taken  her  little  girl.  At  first  Alyosha  con- 
sented to  everything ;  now  he  is  awfully  sorry,  having 
given  up  his  daughter  to  a  stranger,  but  he  could  not 
take  back  his  word.  Karenin  went  to  the  funeral ;  we 
succeeded  in  preventing  a  meeting  between  him  and 
Alyosha.  For  him,  —  that  is,  her  husband,  —  this  death 
is  a  deliverance ;  but  my  poor  son  gave  up  everything 
for  her,  sacrificed  everything,  —  me,  his  position,  his 
career,  —  and  she  was  not  contented  with  that,  but 
wanted  to  ruin  him  besides.  No  !  whatever  you  may 
say,  her  death  is  the  death  of  a  bad  woman,  a  woman 
without  religion.  May  God  forgive  me !  but  when  I 
think  of  the  harm  she  has  done  my  son,  I  cannot  help 
cursing  her  memory." 

"  How  is  he  now  .-'  " 

"  This  Serbian  war  is  our  salvation.  I  am  old,  and 
don't  understand  much  about  it ;  but  God  sent  it  for 
him.  Of  course,  to  me,  as  his  mother,  it  is  painful ; 
and  besides,  they  say  ce  n'est  pas  trh  bien  vu  a  Peters- 
burg, but  what  can  be  done  about  it .''  This  is  the  only 
thing  that  could  save  him.  Yashvin,  his  friend,  gambled 
away  all  he  had,  and  enlisted.  He  came  to  Alyosha, 
and  persuaded  him  to  go  to  Serbia  with  him.  Now  this 
is  occupying  him.  Do  talk  with  him,  I  beg  of  you,  he 
is  so  sad.  And  then,  besides  his  other  troubles,  he  has 
a  toothache.  But  he  will  be  glad  to  see  you.  Please 
talk  with  him.  He  is  walking  up  and  down  on  the 
other  side  of  the  track." 

Sergyei  Ivanovitch  said  that  he  would  be  very  glad  to 
talk  with  the  count,  and  went  over  to  the  side  where 
Vronsky  was. 


350  ANNA   KARENINA 


CHAPTER   V 

In  the  oblique  evening  shadow  cast  by  a  heap  of 
baggage  piled  on  the  platform,  Vronsky,  in  his  long 
paletot  and  slouch  hat,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
was  walking,  like  a  wild  beast  in  a  cage,  up  and  down 
a  narrow  space  where  he  could  not  take  more  than  a 
score  of  steps.  It  seemed  to  Sergyei  Ivanovitch,  as  he 
drew  near,  that  Vronsky  saw  him,  but  pretended  not  to 
recognize  him.  But  to  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  this  was  all 
the  same.     He  was  above  any  petty  susceptibility. 

At  this  moment,  Vronsky,  in  his  eyes,  was  an  im- 
portant actor  in  a  grand  event,  and  deserved  to  be 
sustained  and  encouraged.     He  approached  the  count. 

Vronsky  stopped,  looked  at  him,  recognized  him,  and, 
taking  a  few  steps  to  meet  him,  cordially  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  prefer  not  to  see  me,"  said 
Sergye'f  Ivanovitch ;  "  but  can  I  be  of  any  service  to 
you  .-* " 

"  No  one  could  be  less  unpleasant  for  me  to  meet 
than  you,"  answered  Vronsky.  "Pardon  me.  There 
is  nothing  pleasant  for  me  in  life." 

"  I  understand,  and  I  want  to  offer  you  my  services," 
said  Koznuishef,  struck  by  the  deep  suffering  that  was 
apparent  in  the  count's  face.  "  Might  not  a  letter  to 
Ristitch  or  Milan  be  of  some  use  to  you  ? " 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  answered  Vronsky,  making  an  effort  to 
understand.  "  If  it  is  all  the  same  to  you,  we  will  walk 
a  little.  It  is  so  stifling  in  the  train  !  A  letter  ?  No, 
thank  you.  One  needs  no  letter  of  introduction  to  get 
killed.  In  this  case,  one  to.  the  Turks,  perhaps,"  added 
he,  with  a  smile  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth.  His  eyes 
kept  the  same  expression  of  bitter  sadness. 

"  Well !  It  would  make  it  easier  for  you  to  come  into 
relations  with  men  prepared  for  action.  Still,  as  you 
please ;  but  I  was  very  glad  to  learn  of  your  decision. 
The  very  fact  that  a  man  of  your  standing  has  joined 
the  volunteers  will  raise  them  above  all  cavil  in  the 
public  estimation." 


ANNA   KARENINA 


351 


"  My  sole  merit,"  replied  Vronsky,  "  is  that  life  is  of 
no  value  to  me.  As  to  physical  energy,  I  know  it  will 
not  be  wanting  for  any  purpose ;  and  I  am  glad  enough 
to  give  my  life,  which  is  not  only  useless  to  me,  but 
disgusting,  to  be  useful  to  somebody ; "  and  he  made 
an  impatient  motion  with  his  jaw,  caused  by  his  un- 
ceasing toothache,  which  prevented  him  from  talking 
with  the  expression  he  desired. 

"You  will  be  regenerated,  is  my  prediction,"  said 
Sergye'i  Ivanovitch,  feeling  touched.  "  The  deliverance 
of  one's  oppressed  brethren  is  an  aim  for  which  one 
might  as  well  live  as  die.  May  God  grant  you  full 
success,  and  fill  your  soul  with  peace ! "  he  added,  and 
held  out  his  hand. 

Vronsky  pressed  his  hand  cordially. 

"As  a  field-piece,  I  may  be  of  use But  as  a  man, 

....  I  am  only  a  ruin,"  murmured  the  count,  with  intervals 
between  the  phrases.  The  throbbing  pain  in  his  tooth, 
which  filled  his  mouth  with  saliva,  made  it  an  effort  for 
him  to  speak.  He  stopped,  and  fixed  his  eyes  mechan- 
ically on  the  engine-wheels,  which  advanced,  revolving 
slowly  and  smoothly  on  the  rails. 

And  suddenly  a  sense  of  intense  spiritvial  anguish 
caused  him  for  a  moment  to  forget  his  toothache.  At 
the  sight  of  the  engine  and  the  rails,  through  the  in- 
fluence of  his  talk  with  an  acquaintance  whom  he  had 
not  seen  since  his  misfortune,  she  suddenly  appeared  to 
him,  or,  at  least,  that  which  remained  of  her,  as,  when  he 
rushed  like  a  madman  into  the  barracks  near  the  station, 
where  they  had  carried  her,  he  saw,  lying  on  a  table, 
shamelessly  exposed  to  the  sight  of  all,  her  bleeding 
body,  which  had  so  lately  been  full  of  life.  Her  head, 
uninjured,  with  its  heavy  braids,  and  its  light  curls 
clustering  about  the  temples,  was  leaning  back,  with  the 
eyes  half  closed ;  and  in  the  lovely  face  hovered  still 
a  strange,  wild  expression,  while  her  rosy  lips,  slightly 
opened,  seemed  prepared  to  utter  once  again  that  terri- 
ble menace,  and  predict  to  him,  as  she  had  in  their  dis- 
pute, that  he  "  would  repent." 

And  he  tried  to  remember  how  she  looked  when  he 


2S2  ANNA   KARENINA 

first  met  her,  also  at  a  railroad  station,  with  that  myste- 
rious, poetic,  charming  beauty,  overflowing  with  life  and 
gayety,  demanding  and  bestowing  happiness,  and  not 
bitterly  revengeful  as  he  remembered  her  at  their  last 
interview.  He  tried  to  remember  the  happy  moments 
he  had  spent  with  her,  but  these  moments  were  forever 
spoiled  for  him.  He  remembered  only  her  face,  haughtily 
expressing  her  threat  of  unnecessary,  but  implacable, 
vengeance.  He  ceased  to  be  conscious  of  his  toothache, 
and  sobs  convulsed  his  face. 

After  walking  up  and  down  by  the  baggage  once  or 
twice,  the  count  controlled  himself,  and  spoke  calmly 
with  Sergyei  Ivanovitch. 

"  Have  you  seen  the  latest  telegrams  ?  Yes  ;  they  have 
fought  three  times,  and  another  battle  is  expected  to- 
morrow." 

And,  after  a  few  words  about  King  Milan's  proclama- 
tion, and  the  immense  effect  which  it  might  have,  the 
two  men  separated  at  the  ringing  of  the  second  bell  and 
went  to  their  respective  compartments. 


CHAPTER   VI 

As  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  had  not  known  just  when  it 
would  be  possible  for  him  to  leave  Moscow,  he  did  not 
telegraph  his  brother  to  send  for  him.  Levin  was  not 
at  home  when  he  and  Katavasof,  black  as  negroes  with 
smoke  and  dust,  reached  Pokrovskoye  about  noon,  in  a 
tarantas  which  they  hired  at  the  station. 

Kitty  was  sitting  on  the  balcony  with  her  father  and 
sister  when  she  saw  her  brother-in-law  approaching,  and 
she  ran  to  meet  him. 

"  Your  conscience  ought  to  prick  you  for  not  letting 
us  know,"  said  she,  shaking  hands  with  Sergyei  Ivano- 
vitch, and  offering  her  brow  to  be  kissed. 

"  We  got  along  splendidly,  and  we  did  not  have  to 
bother  you.  I  am  so  dusty  that  I  fear  to  touch  you. 
I  was  so  busy  that  I  did  not  know  when  I  could  leave. 
And   you   look  the  same    as   ever,"    said    he,   smiling, 


ANNA    KARENINA  35:^ 

"  enjoying  the  gentle  current  of  your  softly  flowing  hap- 
piness. And  here  is  our  friend,  Feodor  Vasilyevitch 
who  has  come  at  last." 

"  But  I  am  not  a  negro.  When  I  have  washed,  I 
shall  look  like  a  human  being,"  said  Katavasof,  with 
his  usual  pleasantry,  offering  his  hand,  and  laughing, 
so  that  his  white  teeth  gleamed  out  from  his  dusty  face. 

"  Kostia  will  be  very  glad.  He  is  out  on  the  farm, 
but  he  ought  to  be  back  by  this  time." 

"Always  occupied  with  his  estate,"  said  Katavasof. 
"  The  rest  of  us  can  think  of  nothing  but  the  Serbian 
war.  How  does  my  friend  regard  this  subject  .-•  He  is 
sure  not  to  think  as  other  people  do." 

"  Yes,  he  does, ....  but ....  perhaps  not  like  everybody," 
said  Kitty,  a  little  confused,  looking  at  Sergyei  Ivano- 
vitch.  "  I  wall  send  some  one  to  find  him.  We  have 
papa  with  us  just  now ;  he  has  recently  come  back  from 
abroad." 

And  Kitty,  while  making  her  arrangements  to  send 
for  Levin,  and  to  furnish  her  guests  a  chance  to  wash 
off  the  dust  —  the  one  in  the  library,  the  other  in  the 
room  assigned  to  Dolly  —  and  then  to  have  luncheon 
ready  for  them,  enjoyed  the  full  power  of  quick  mo- 
tion which  before  her  baby  was  born  she  had  been 
so  long  deprived  of.  Then  she  went  to  the  balcony 
where  her  father  was  :  — 

"  It 's  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  and  Professor  Katavasof." 

"  Okh  !  in  this  heat !     It  will  be  a  bore  !  " 

"  Not  at  all,  papa ;  he  is  very  nice,  and  Kostia  loves 
him  dearly,"  said  Kitty,  laughing  at  the  expression  of 
consternation  on  her  father's  face. 

"  Go  entertain  them,  dushenka,"  she  said  to  her  sister. 
"  They  saw  Stiva  at  the  station  ;  he  was  well.  And  I 
am  going  to  the  baby  for  a  little  while.  I  actually  have 
not  nursed  him  since  morning ;  he  will  be  crying  if  I 
don't  go,"  and  she,  feeling  the  pressure  of  milk,  hastened 
to  the  nursery.  In  reality  it  had  not  been  guesswork 
with  her,  —  the  tie  that  bound  her  to  the  child  was  still 
unbroken,  —  she  actually  knew  by  the  flow  of  milk  that 
he  needed  something  to  eat.     Even  before  she  reached 

VOL.  III.  —  23 


354  ANNA    KARENINA 

the  nursery  she  knew  that  he  would  be  crying.  And, 
indeed,  he  was. 

She  heard  his  voice,  and  quickened  her  steps.  But 
the  more  she  hurried,  the  louder  he  cried.  It  was  a  fine, 
healthy  scream,  a  scream  of  hunger  and  impatience. 

"  Am  I  late,  nurse,  late .'' "  asked  Kitty,  sitting  down, 
and  getting  ready  to  suckle  the  child.  "  There,  give 
him  to  me,  give  him  to  me,  quick.  Akh,  nurse !  how 
stupid !  Take  off  his  cap  afterward,"  said  she,  quite  as 
impatient  as  her  baby. 

The  baby  screamed  as  if  it  were  famished.  "  Now, 
now,  it  can't  be  helped,  little  mother !  "  said  Agafya 
Mikhailovna,  who  could  not  keep  out  of  the  nursery. 
"  You  must  do  things  in  order.  Agu,  agu,"  she  chuckled 
to  the  infant,  not  heeding  Kitty's  impatience. 

The  nurse  gave  the  child  to  his  mother.  Agafya 
Mikhailovna  followed  the  child,  her  face  all  aglow  with 
tenderness. 

"He  knows  me  !  He  knows  me  !  God  is  my  witness, 
he  knew  me,  Matushka  Katerina  Aleksandrovna,"  she 
cried. 

But  Kitty  did  not  hear  what  she  said.  Her  impatience 
was  as  great  as  the  baby's.  It  hindered  the  very  thing 
that  they  both  desired.  The  baby,  in  his  haste  to  suckle, 
could  not  manage  to  take  hold,  and  was  vexed.  At  last, 
after  one  final  shriek  of  despair,  the  arrangements  were 
perfected ;  and  mother  and  child,  simultaneously  breath- 
ing a  sigh  of  content,  became  calm. 

"The  poor  little  thing  is  all  in  a  perspiration,"  whis- 
pered Kitty.  "  Do  you  really  think  he  knew  you  .''  "  she 
added,  looking  down  into  the  child's  eyes,  which  seemed 
to  her  to  peep  out  roguishly  from  under  his  cap,  as  his 
little  cheeks  sucked  in  and  out,  while  his  little  hand,  with 
rosy  palm,  flourished  around  his  head.  "  It  cannot  be. 
For,  if  he  knew  you,  he  would  surely  know  me,"  con- 
tinued Kitty,  with  a  smile,  when  Agafya  Mikhailovna 
persisted  in  her  belief  that  he  knew  her. 

She  smiled,  because  though  she  said  that  he  could  not 
recognize  her,  yet  she  knew  in  her  heart  that  he  not 
only  recognized  Agafya  Mikhailovna,  but  that  he  knew 


ANNA    KARENINA  355 

and  understood  all  things,  and  knew  and  understood  what 
no  one  else  understood,  and  thmgs  which  she,  his  mother, 
was  now  beginning  to  understand  only  through  his 
teaching.  For  Agafya  Mikhailovna,  for  the  nurse,  for 
his  grandfather,  even  for  his  father,  Mitya  was  just  a 
little  human  being,  who  needed  nothing  but  physical 
care ;  for  his  mother,  he  was  a  being  endowed  with 
moral  faculties,  who  already  had  a  whole  history  of  spirit- 
ual relationships. 

"You  will  sec  if  he  doesn't  when  he  wakes  up. 
When  I  do  this  way,  his  face  will  light  up,  the  little 
dove !  It  will  light  up  like  a  bright  day,"  said  Agafya 
Mikhailovna. 

"  There  !  very  well,  very  well,  we  shall  see,"  whispered 
Kitty ;  "  now  go  away  ;  he  is  going  to  sleep." 


CHAPTER   VII 

Agafya  Mikhailovna  went  away  on  tiptoe ;  the 
nurse  closed  the  blinds,  chased  away  the  flies  which 
were  hidden  under  the  muslin  curtain  of  the  cradle ; 
then  she  sat  down,  and  began  to  wave  a  little  withered 
branch  over  the  mother  and  child. 

"  It 's  hot,  hot !  pray  God,  He  may  send  a  little 
shower,"  she  said. 

"Da!  da!  sh-sh-sh,"  was  the  mother's  reply,  as  she 
rocked  gently  to  and  fro,  and  pressed  Mitya  to  her 
breast.  His  eyelids  now  opened,  and  now  closed  ;  and 
he  languidly  moved  his  chubby  arm.  This  little  arm 
disturbed  Kitty  ;  she  felt  a  strong  inclination  to  kiss 
it,  but  she  feared  to  do  so  lest  it  should  wake  him.  At 
last  the  arm  began  to  droop,  and  the  eyes  closed  more 
and  more.  Only  rarely  now  he  would  raise  his  long 
lashes,  and  gaze  at  his  mother  with  his  dark,  dewy  eyes. 
The  nurse  began  to  nod,  and  dropped  off  into  a  nap. 
Overhead  she  could  hear  the  old  prince's  voice,  and 
Katavasof's  sonorous  laugh. 

"  Evidently,  they  don't  need  me  to  help  in  the  con- 
versation," thought  Kitty  ;  "  but  it  is  too  bad  that  Kostia 


^^6  ANNA   KARENINA 

is  not  there  ;  he  must  have  gone  to  his  bees.  Some- 
times it  disturbs  me  to  have  him  spend  so  much  time 
over  them ;  but  then,  on  the  whole,  I  am  glad ;  it 
diverts  him,  and  he  is  certainly  more  cheerful  than  he 
was  in  the  spring.  Then  he  was  so  gloomy,  and  so 
unhappy  !     What  a  strange  man  he  is  !  " 

Kitty  knew  what  caused  her  husband's  disquiet.  It 
was  his  doubting  spirit ;  and  although,  if  she  had  been 
asked  if  she  beUeved  that,  in  the  world  to  come,  he 
would  fail  of  salvation  owing  to  his  want  of  faith,  she 
would  have  been  compelled  to  say  yes,  yet  his  skepti- 
cism did  not  make  her  unhappy ;  and  she,  who  believed 
that  there  was  no  salvation  for  the  unbelieving,  and 
loved  more  than  all  else  in  the  world  her  husband's  soul, 
smiled  as  she  thought  of  his  skepticism,  and  called  him 
a  strange  man. 

"  Why  does  he  spend  all  his  time  reading  those  philo- 
sophical books  ?  If  all  this  is  written  in  those  books, 
then  he  can  understand  them.  But  if  it  is  not  true,  why 
does  he  read  them  ?  He  himself  says  that  he  longs  for 
faith.  Why  does  n't  he  believe .-'  Probably  he  thinks 
too  much ;  and  he  thinks  too  much  because  he  is  lonely. 
He  is  always  alone.  He  can't  speak  out  all  his  thoughts 
to  us.  I  think  he  will  be  glad  that  these  guests  have 
come,  especially  Katavasof.  He  likes  to  discuss  with 
him." 

And  immediately  Kitty's  thoughts  were  diverted  by 
the  question  where  it  would  be  best  for  Katavasof  to 
sleep.  Ought  he  and  SergyeT  Ivanovitch  to  have  a 
room  together  or  apart  ?  And  here  a  sudden  thought 
made  her  start,  so  that  she  disturbed  Mitya,  who  opened 
his  eyes  and  looked  at  her  reproachfully. 

"  The  washerwoman  has  n't  brought  back  the  linen. 
I  hope  Agafya  Mikhailovna  hasn't  given  out  all  we 
had !  "  and  the  color  rushed  to  Kitty's  forehead. 

"There,  I  must  find  out  myself,"  thought  she;  and, 
reverting  to  her  former  thoughts,  she  remembered  that 
she  had  not  finished  the  important  train  of  spiritual 
thoughts  which  she  had  begun,  and  she  once  more 
repeated :  — 


ANNA    KARENINA  .157 

"Yes,  Kostia  is  an  unbeliever;"  and,  as  she  did  so, 
she  smiled. 

"Yes,  he  is  an  unbeliever,  but  I  'd  far  liefer  he  should 

F  always  be  one  than  a  person  like  Madame  Stahl,  or  as  I 

wanted  to  be  when  I  was  abroad.     At  any  rate,  he  will 

never  be  hypocritical."     And  a  recent  example  of  his 

goodness  recurred  vividly  to  her  memory. 

Several  weeks  before,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  had  writ- 
ten Dolly  a  letter  of  repentance.  He  begged  her  to  save 
his  honor  by  selling  her  property  to  pay  his  debts. 

Dolly  was  in  despair.  She  hated  her  husband,  despised 
him  ;  and  at  first  she  made  up  her  mind  to  refuse  his 
request,  and  apply  for  a  divorce ;  but  afterward  she  de- 
cided to  §ell  a  part  of  her  estate.  Kitty,  with  an  involun- ' 
tary  smile  of  emotion,  recalled  her  husband's  confusion, 
his  various  awkward  attempts  to  find  a  way  of  helping 
Dolly,  and  how,  at  last,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  only  way  to  accomplish  it  without  wounding  her  was 
to  make  over  to  Dolly  their  part  of  this  estate. 

"  How  can  he  be  without  faith,  when  he  has  such  a 
warm  heart,  and  is  afraid  to  grieve  even  a  child  .^  He 
never  thinks  of  himself  —  always  of  others.  Sergye'i 
Ivanovitch  finds  it  perfectly  natural  to  consider  him  his 
business  manager;  so  does  his  sister.  Dolly  and  her 
children  have  no  one  else  but  him  to  lean  upon.  He  is 
always  sacrificing  his  time  to  the  peasants,  who  come  to 
consult  him  every  day. 

"Yes ;  you  cannot  do  better  than  to  try  to  be  like  your 
father,"  she  murmured,  touching  her  lips  to  her  son's 
cheek,  before  laying  him  into  the  nurse's  arms. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

Ever  since  that  moment  when,  as  he  sat  beside  his 
dying  brother,  Levin  had  examined  the  problem  of  life 
and  death  in  the  light  of  the  new  convictions,  as  he 
called  them,  which  from  the  age  of  twenty  to  thirty-four 
years  had  taken  the  place  of  his  childhood's  beliefs,  he 


358  ANNA    KARENINA 

was  terrified  not  only  at  death,  but  at  life ;  because  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  had  not  the  slightest  knowledge 
of  its  origin,  its  purpose,  its  reason,  its  nature.  Our 
organism  and  its  destruction,  the  indestructibility  of  mat- 
ter, the  laws  of  the  conservation  and  development  of 
forces,  were  words  which  were  substituted  for  the  terms 
of  his  early  faith.  These  words,  and  the  scientific  theo- 
ries connected  with  them,  were  doubtless  interesting  from 
an  intellectual  point  of  view,  but  they  stood  for  nothing 
in  the  face  of  real  life. 

And  Levin  suddenly  felt  in  the  position  of  a  man  who 
in  cold  weather  had  exchanged  his  warm  shuba  for  a 
muslin  garment,  and  who  for  the  first  time  should  indu- 
bitably, not  with  his  reason,  but  with  his  whole  being, 
become  persuaded  that  he  was  absolutely  naked,  and 
inevitably  destined  to  perish  miserably. 

From  that  time,  without  in  the  least  changing  his  out- 
ward fife,  and  though  he  did  not  like  to  confess  it,  even 
to  himself.  Levin  never  ceased  to  feel  a  terror  of  his 
ignorance. 

Moreover,  he  vaguely  felt  that  what  he  called  his 
convictions  not  only  came  from  his  ignorance,  but  were 
idle  for  helping  him  to  a  clearer  knowledge  of  what  he 
needed. 

At  first  his  marriage,  with  its  new  joys  and  its  new 
duties,  completely  blotted  out  these  thoughts  ;  but  they 
came  back  to  him,  with  increasing  persistence  demand- 
ing an  answer,  after  his  wife's  confinement,  when  he 
lived  in  Moscow  without  any  serious  occupation. 

The  question  presented  itself  to  him  in  this  way  :  — 

"  If  I  do  not  accept  the  explanations  offered  me  by 
Christianity  on  the  problem  of  my  existence,  then  what 
answer  shall  I  find  .■*  " 

And  he  scrutinized  the  whole  arsenal  of  his  scientific 
convictions,  and  found  no  answer  whatever  to  his  ques- 
tions, and  nothing  like  an  answer. 

He  was  in  the  position  of  a  man  who  seeks  to  find 
food  in  a  toy-store  or  a  gun-shop. 

Involuntarily  and  unconsciously  he  sought  now  in  every 
book,  in  every  conversation,  and  in  every  person  whom 


ANNA    KARENINA  359 

he  met,  some  sympathy  with  these  questions  and  their 
solution. 

More  than  by  anything  else,  he  was  surprised  and 
puzzled  by  the  fact  that  the  men  of  his  class,  who  for 
the  most  part  had,  like  himself,  substituted  science  for 
religion,  seemed  to  experience  not  the  least  moral  suffer- 
ing, but  to  live  entirely  satisfied  and  content.  Thus  in 
addition  to  the  main  question  there  were  others  which 
tormented  him:  Were  these  men  sincere?  Were  they 
not  hypocrites.  Or  did  they  understand  more  clearly 
than  he  did  the  answer  science  gave  to  these  trouble- 
some questions  .-*  And  he  took  to  studying  these  men, 
and  books  which  might  contain  the  solutions  which  he 
so  desired. 

One  thing  which  he  had  discovered,  however,  since 
these  questions  had  begun  to  occupy  him,  was  that  he 
had  made  a  gross  error  in  taking  up  with  the  idea  of 
his  early  university  friends,  that  religion  had  outlived 
its  day,  and  no  longer  existed.  The  best  people  whom 
he  knew  were  believers,  —  the  old  prince,  Lvof,  of  whom 
he  was  so  fond,  Sergyei  Ivanovitch,  and  all  women  had 
faith  ;  and  his  wife  believed  just  as  he  had  believed  when 
he  was  a  child,  and  nine-tenths  of  the  Russian  people 
—  all  people  whose  lives  inspired  the  greatest  respect  — 
were  believers. 

Another  strange  thing  was  that,  as  he  read  many 
books,  he  became  convinced  that  the  men  whose  opinions 
he  shared  did  not  attach  to  them  any  importance ;  and  that 
without  explaining  anything  they  simply  ignored  these 
questions,  without  an  answer  to  which  life  seemed  to 
him  impossible,  and  took  up  others  which  were  to  him 
utterly  uninteresting, — such,  for  example,  as  the  devel- 
opment of  the  organism,  the  mechanical  explanation  of 
the  soul,  and  others. 

Moreover,  at  the  time  of  his  wife's  illness,  he  had 
what  to  him  seemed  a  most  extraordinary  experience  : 
he,  the  unbeliever,  had  prayed,  and  prayed  with  sincere 
faith.  But  as  soon  as  the  danger  was  over,  he  felt  that 
he  could  not  give  that  temporary  disposition  any  abiding- 
place  in  his  life. 


36o  ANNA    KARENINA 

He  could  not  avow  that  the  truth  appeared  to  him 
then,  but  that  he  was  mistaken  now  ;  because,  as  he  began 
calmly  to  analyze  his  feelings,  they  eluded  him.  He 
could  not  avow  that  he  had  been  deceived  then,  because 
he  had  experienced  a  temporary  spiritual  condition ;  and 
if  he  pretended  that  he  had  succumbed  to  a  moment  of 
weakness,  he  would  sully  a  sacred  moment.  He  was  in 
a  state  of  internal  conflict,  and  he  strove  with  all  the 
strength  of  his  nature  to  free  himself  from  it. 


CHAPTER    IX 

These  thoughts  tormented  him  with  varying  intensity, 
but  he  could  not  free  himself  from  them.  He  read  and 
meditated ;  but  the  more  he  read  and  meditated,  the  end 
desired  seemed  to  grow  more  and  more  remote. 

During  the  latter  part  of  his  stay  in  Moscow,  and 
after  he  reached  the  country,  he  became  convinced  of 
the  uselessness  of  seeking  in  rhaterialism  an  answer  to 
his  doubts ;  and  he  read  over  the  philosophers  whose 
explanations  of  life  were  opposed  to  materialism,  — 
Plato  and  Spinoza,  and  Kant  and  Schelling,  and  Hegel 
and  Schopenhauer. 

These  thoughts  seemed  to  him  fruitful  while  he  was 
reading,  or  was  contrasting  their  doctrines  with  those  of 
others,  especially  with  those  of  a  materialistic  tendency ; 
but  just  as  soon  as  he  attempted,  independently,  to  apply 
these  guides  to  some  doubtful  point,  he  fell  back  into 
the  same  perplexities  as  before.  The  terms  ";;//;/^," 
"^e////,"  ''freedom^'  "■essence,'''  had  a  certain  meaning  to 
his  intellect  as  long  as  he  followed  the  clew  estabhshed 
by  the  deductions  of  these  philosophers,  and  allowed 
himself  to  be  caught  in  the  snare  of  their  subtle  dis- 
tinctions ;  but  when  practical  life  asserted  its  point  of 
view,  this  artistic  structure  fell,  like  a  house  built  of 
cards ;  and  it  became  evident  that  the  edifice  was  built 
only  of  beautiful  words,  having  no  more  connection  than 
logic  with  the  serious  side  of  life. 

Once,  as  he  was  reading  Schopenhauer,  he  substituted 


ANNA    KARENINA  361 

the  term  "  love  "  for  that  which  this  philosopher  calls 
"  will,"  and  this  new  philosophy  consoled  him  for  a  few 
days  while  he  clung  to  it.  But  it  also  proved  unsatis- 
factory when  he  regarded  it  from  the  standpoint  of 
practical  life ;  then  it  seemed  to  be  the  thin  muslin  with- 
out warmth  as  a  dress. 

Sergyei  Ivanovitch  advised  him  to  read  Khomyakof 's  ^ 
theological  writings  :  and  though  he  was  at  first  repelled 
by  the  excessive  affectation  of  the  author's  style,  and  his 
strong  polemic  tendency,  he  was  struck  by  their  teach- 
ings regarding  the  Church  ;  he  was  struck  also  by  the 
development  of  the  following  thought :  — 

"  Man  when  alone  cannot  attain  the  knowledge  of 
theological  truths.  The  true  light  is  kept  for  a  com- 
munion of  souls  who  are  filled  with  the  same  love ;  that 
is,  for  the  Church." 

He  was  delighted  with  the  thought :  How  much  easier 
it  is  to  accept  the  Church,  which  united  with  it  all  believ- 
ing people  and  was  endowed  with  holiness  and  infallibil- 
ity, since  it  had  God  for  its  head,  —  to  accept  its  teachings 
as  to  Creation,  the  Fall,  and  Redemption,  and  through 
it  to  reach  God,  —  than  to  begin  with  God,  a  far-off, 
mysterious  God,  the  Creation,  and  the  rest  of  it. 

But,  as  he  read,  after  Khomyakof,  a  history  of  the 
Church  by  a  Catholic  writer,  and  the  history  of  the 
Church  by  an  Orthodox  writer,  and  perceived  that 
the  Orthodox  Greek  Church  and  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church,  both  of  them  in  their  very  essence  infallible, 
were  antagonistic,  he  saw  that  he  had  been  deluded  by 
Khomyakof 's  church-teachings  ;  and  this  edifice  also 
fell  into  dust,  like  the  constructions  of  philosophy. 

During  this  whole  spring  he  was  not  himself,  and 
passed  hours  of  misery. 

"  I  cannot  live  without  knowing  what  I  am,  and  why 

1  Alekset  Stepanovitch  Khomyakof  was  born  in  1804  ;  after  serving  in 
the  Guard  and  taking  active  part  in  the  Turkish  campaign,  he  retired  to 
private  life.  He  wrote  several  romantic  tragedies  in  verse,  also  a  number 
of  poems  of  Panslavonic  tendencies  ;  he  is  chiefly  remembered  as  a  theo- 
logical writer,  and  some  of  his  works  have  been  translated  into  French  and 
even  English.  _In  1858  he  was  president  of  the  Moscow  Society  of  the 
Friends  of  Russian  Literature.     He  died  in  i860.  —  Ed. 


j62  ANNA    KARENINA 

I  exist.  Since  I  cannot  reach  this  knowledge,  life  is 
impossible,"  said  Levin  to  himself. 

"  In  the  infinitude  of  time,  in  the  infinitude  of  matter, 
in  the  infinitude  of  space,  an  organic  cell  is  formed, 
exists  for  a  moment,  and  bursts.     That  cell  is  —  I." 

This  was  a  cruel  lie  ;  but  it  was  the  sole,  the  supreme, 
result  of  the  labor  of  the  human  mind  for  centuries. 

It  was  the  final  creed  on  which  were  founded  the  latest 
researches  of  the  scientific  spirit ;  it  was  the  dominant 
conviction ;  and  Levin,  without  knowing  exactly  why, 
simply  because  this  theory  seemed  to  him  the  clearest, 
was  involuntarily  held  by  it. 

But  this  conclusion  was  not  merely  a  lie,  it  was  the 
cruel  jest  of  some  evil  spirit,  —  cruel,  inimical,  to  which 
it  was  impossible  to  submit. 

To  get  away  from  it  was  a  duty ;  deliverance  from  it 
was  in  the  power  of  every  one,  and  the  one  means  of 
deliverance  was  —  death. 

And  Levin,  the  happy  father  of  a  family,  a  man  in 
perfect  health,  was  sometimes  so  tempted  to  commit 
suicide,  that  he  hid  ropes  from  sight,  lest  he  should 
hang  himself,  and  feared  to  go  out  with  his  gun,  lest  he 
should  shoot  himself. 

But  Levin  did  not  hang  himself,  or  shoot  himself,  but 
lived  and  struggled  on. 


CHAPTER  X 

When  Levin  puzzled  over  what  he  was,  and  why  he 
was  born,  he  found  no  answer,  and  fell  into  despair  ;  but 
when  he  ceased  to  ask  himself  these  questions,  he  seemed 
to  know  what  he  was  and  why  he  was  alive,  for  the  very 
reason  that  he  resolutely  and  definitely  lived  and  worked  ; 
even  during  the  more  recent  months  he  had  lived  far  more 
strenuously  and  resolutely  than  ever  before. 

Toward  the  end  of  June  he  returned  to  the  country  and 
resumed  his  ordinary  work  at  Pokrovskoye.  The  super- 
intendence of  the  estates  of  his  brother  and  sister,  his 
relations  with  his  neighbors  and  his  muzhiks,  his  family 


ANNA    KARENINA  2^;^ 

cares,  his  new  enterprise  in  bee-culture,  which  he  had 
taken  up  this  year,  occupied  all  his  time.  These  inter- 
ests occupied  him,  not  because  he  carried  them  on  with  a 
view  to  their  universal  application,  as  he  had  done  before, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  because  being  now  on  the  one  hand 
disillusionized  by  the  lack  of  success  in  his  former 
undertakings  for  the  common  good,  on  the  other  being 
too  much  engrossed  by  his  own  thoughts  and  the  very 
multitude  of  affairs  calling  for  his  attention,  he  entirely 
relinquished  all  his  attempts  of  cooperative  advantage 
and  he  occupied  himself  with  his  affairs,  simply  because  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  was  irresistibly  impelled  to  do  what 
he  did,  and  could  not  do  otherwise. 

Formerly  —  almost  from  childhood  till  he  reached 
manhood  —  when  he  began  to  do  anything  that  would 
be  good  for  all,  for  humanity,  for  Russia,  he  saw  that  the 
thought  of  it  gave  him,  in  advance,  a  pleasing  sense  of 
joy ;  but  the  action  in  itself  never  realized  his  hopes, 
nor  had  he  full  conviction  that  the  work  was  neces- 
sary, and  the  activity  itself  which  seemed  at  first  so 
important  kept  growing  smaller  and  smaller,  and  came 
to  naught. 

But  now  that  since  his  marriage  he  had  become  more 
and  more  restricted  by  life  for  its  own  sake,  though 
he  had  no  pleasure  at  the  thought  of  his  activity,  he  felt 
a  conviction  that  his  work  was  indispensable,  and  saw 
that  the  results  gained  were  far  more  satisfactory  than 
before. 

Now,  quite  against  his  will,  he  cut  deeper  and 
deeper  into  the  soil,  like  a  plow  that  cannot  choose  its 
path,  or  turn  from  its  furrow. 

To  live  as  his  fathers  and  grandfathers  had  lived,  to 
carry  out  their  work  so  as  to  hand  it  on  in  turn  to  his 
children,  seemed  to  him  a  plain  duty.  It  was  as  neces- 
sary as  the  duty  of  eating  when  hungry  ;  and  he  knew 
that,  to  reach  this  end,  he  was  under  obligation  so  to 
conduct  the  machinery  of  the  estate  ^  at  Pokrovskoye 
that  there  might  be  profit  in  it.  As  indubitably  as  a 
debt  required  to  be  paid,  so  was  it  incumbent  on  him  to 

^  Khozliyaistvennaya  mashina. 


364  ANNA   KARENINA 

preserve  his  paternal  estate  in  such  a  condition  that  his 
son,  receiving  it  in  turn,  might  say,  "  Thank  you,  my 
father,"  just  as  Levin  himself  was  grateful  to  his  ancestors 
for  what  they  had  cleared  and  tilled.  He  felt  that  he 
had  no  right  to  rent  his  land  to  the  muzhiks,  but  that  he 
himself  must  keep  everything  under  his  own  eye,  — 
maintain  his  cattle,  fertilize  his  fields,  set  out  trees. 

It  was  as  impossible  not  to  look  out  for  the  interests 
of  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  and  his  sister,  and  all  the  peasants 
that  came  to  consult  him,  as  it  was  to  abandon  the  child 
that  had  been  given  into  his  hands.  He  felt  obliged  to 
look  after  the  interests  of  his  sister-in-law,  who  with  her 
children  was  living  at  his  house,  and  of  his  wife  with 
her  child,  and  he  had  to  spend  with  them  at  least  a  small 
part  of  his  time.  And  all  this,  together  with  his  hunt- 
ing and  his  new  occupation  of  bee-culture,  filled  to  over- 
flowing his  life,  the  meaning  of  which  he  could  not 
understand  when  he  reflected  on  it. 

Not  only  did  Levin  see  clearly  wJiat  it  was  his  duty 
to  do,  but  he  saw  Jiow  he  must  fulfil  it,  and  what  had 
paramount  importance. 

He  knew  that  it  was  requisite  to  hire  laborers  as 
cheaply  as  possible;  but  to  get  them  into  his  power  by 
paying  down  money  in  advance,  and  getting  them  at  less 
than  market  price,  he  would  not  do,  although  this  was 
very  advantageous.  It  was  permissible  to  sell  fodder 
to  the  muzhiks  in  time  of  scarcity,  even  though  he  felt 
sorry  for  those  who  were  improvident ;  but  he  felt  it  his 
duty  to  do  away  with  inns  and  drinking-places,  even 
though  they  brought  in  great  profit.  On  principle  he 
punished  as  severely  as  he  could  thefts  from  his  wood ; 
but  when  he  found  cattle  straying  he  was  not  inclined 
to  exact  a  fine,  and  though  it  annoyed  the  guards  and 
brought  the  punishment  into  contempt,  he  always  insisted 
on  having  the  cattle  driven  out  again.  He  advanced 
money  to  Piotr,  to  save  him  from  the  claws  of  a  money- 
lender, who  charged  him  ten  per  cent  a  month  ;  but  he 
made  no  allowance  for  arrears  in  the  obrok  or  money 
due  him  from  negligent  muzhiks.  He  found  it  impos- 
sible to  pardon  an  overseer  because  a  small  meadow  was 


ANNA   KARENINA  ^^^ 

not  mowed  and  the  grass  was  wasted ;  but  he  would  not 
let  them  mow  a  piece  of  land  amounting  to  eighty 
desyatins  —  or  two  hundred  and  sixteen  acres  —  on  which 
a  young  forest  had  been  planted.  He  would  not  excuse  a 
muzhik  who  went  home  in  working  hours  because  his 
father  had  died,  —  sorry  as  he  was  for  him,  —  and  he  had 
to  pay  him  lower  wages  for  the  costly  months  of  idle- 
ness ;  but  he  was  bound  to  give  board  and  lodging  to 
old  servants  who  were  superannuated. 

Levin  felt  that  it  was  right,  on  returning  home,  to  go 
first  to  his  wife,  who  was  not  well,  though  some  muzhiks 
had  been  waiting  for  three  hours  to  see  him ;  and  he 
knew,  in  spite  of  all  the  pleasure  that  he  should  have  in 
seeing  his  bees  hived,  nevertheless  he  felt  in  duty  bound 
to  deprive  himself  of  this  pleasure  and  let  his  old  bee- 
man  transfer  the  swarm  without  him,  and  go  and  talk 
with  the  muzhiks  who  had  come  to  the  apiary  for  him. 

Whether  he  did  well  or  ill,  he  knew  not ;  and  he  did 
not  try  to  settle  it,  but,  moreover,  he  avoided  all  thoughts 
and  discussions  on  the  subject.  Reasoning  led  him  to 
doubt,  and  prevented  him  from  seeing  what  was  right 
to  do,  or  not  to  do.  When  he  ceased  to  consider,  but 
simply  /ived,  he  never  failed  to  find  in  his  soul  the 
presence  of  an  infallible  judge,  telHng  him  which  of  two 
possible  courses  was  the  best  to  take,  and  which  was  the 
worst ;  and  when  he  failed  to  follow  this  inner  voice,  he 
was  instantly  made  aware  of  it. 

Thus  he  lived,  not  knowing,  and  not  seeing  the  pos- 
sibility of  knowing,  what  he  was,  or  why  he  lived  in  the 
world,  and  tortured  by  his  ignorance  to  such  a  degree 
that  he  feared  committing  suicide  and  yet  resolutely  pur- 
suing the  course  of  life  traced  out  for  him. 


CHAPTER   XI 

The  day  on  which  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  reached  Pokrov- 
skoye  had  been  unusually  full  of  torment  for  Levin. 

It  was  at  that  hurried,  busy  season  of  the  year  when 
all  the  peasantry  are  engaged  in  putting  forth  an  extraor 


266  ANNA    KARENINA 

dinary  effort,  and  showing  an  endurance,  which  are 
quite  unknown  in  the  ordinary  conditions  of  their  lives, 
and  which  would  be  prized  very  highly  if  it  were  not 
repeated  every  year,  and  did  not  produce  such  very 
simple  results.  Mowing  and  sowing  rye  and  oats,  reap- 
ing, harvesting,  threshing,  —  these  are  labors  which  seem 
simple  and  commonplace;  but  to  accomplish  them  in  the 
short  time  accorded  by  nature,  every  one,  old  and  young, 
must  set  to  work.  For  three  or  four  weeks  they  must 
be  content  with  the  simplest  fare,  —  black  bread,  garlic, 
and  kvas ;  must  sleep  only  a  few  hours,  and  must  not 
pause  night  or  day.  And  every  year  this  happens 
throughout  all  Russia. 

Having  lived  the  larger  part  of  his  life  in  the  coun- 
try, and  in  the  closest  relations  with  the  peasantry,  Levin 
always  at  harvest-time  felt  that  this  universal  activity 
among  the  people  embraced  his  own  life. 

In  the  early  morning  he  had  gone  to  the  field  of  early 
rye,  to  the  field  where  they  were  carrying  off  the  oats  in 
ricks.  Then  he  came  back  to  breakfast  with  his  wife 
and  sister-in-law,  and  had  afterward  gone  off  on  foot  to 
the  farm,  where  he  was  trying  a  new  threshing-machine. 

This  whole  day,  Levin,  as  he  talked  with  the  overseer 
and  the  muzhiks  in  the  field,  as  he  talked  at  the  house 
with  his  wife  and  Dolly  and  the  children  and  his  father- 
in-law,  thought  of  only  one  thing ;  and  constantly  the 
same  questions  pursued  him :  "  What  am  I  ?  and  where 
am  I  ?  and  why  am  I  here  .■"  " 

As  he  stood  in  the  cool  shadow  of  his  newly  thatched 
barn,  where  the  hazelwood  timbers,  still  smelling  of  the 
fragrant  leaves,  held  down  the  straw  to  the  freshly  peeled 
aspen  timbers  that  made  the  roof.  Levin  gazed,  now 
through  the  open  doors,  where  whirled  and  played  the 
dry  and  choking  dust  thrown  off  by  the  threshing- 
machine  ;  now  at  the  hot  sunlight  lying  on  the  grass  of 
the  threshing-floor,  and  at  the  fresh  straw  just  brought 
out  of  the  barn ;  now  at  the  white-breasted  swallows 
with  their  spotted  heads,  as  they  flew  about  twittering, 
and  settled  under  the  eaves,  or,  shaking  their  wings, 
darted  through  the  open  doors ;  and  then  again  at  the 


ANNA    KARENINA  367 

peasantry,  bustling  about  in  the  dark  and  dusty  barn, 
and  strange  ideas  came  into  his  mind  :  — 

"  Why  is  all  this  done  ?  "  he  asked  himself,  "  Why 
am  I  standing  here  ?  Why  am  I  compelling  them  to 
work,  and  why  are  they  working  so  hard  ?  Why  are 
they  doing  their  best  in  my  presence  ?  Why  is  my  old 
friend  Matriona  putting  in  so  with  all  her  might  ?  I 
cured  her  when  a  beam  fell  on  her  at  the  fire,"  he  said 
to  himself,  as  he  looked  at  a  hideous  old  baba,  who  was 
walking  with  bare,  sunburned  feet  across  the  hard, 
uneven  soil,  and  was  plying  the  rake  vigorously.  "  She 
got  well  then.  But  if  not  to-day  or  to-morrow,  then  in 
ten  years,  she  must  be  borne  to  her  grave,  and  there  will 
be  nothing  left  of  her,  nor  of  that  pretty  girl  in  red,  wha 
is  husking  corn  with  such  graceful,  swift  motions.  They 
will  bury  her.  And  that  dappled  gelding  will  soon  die," 
he  thought,  as  he  looked  at  the  horse,  breathing  painfully 
with  distended  nostrils  and  heavily  sagging  belly,  as  it 
struggled  up  the  ever  descending  treadmill.  "They  will 
carry  him  off.  And  Feodor,  the  machine-tender,  with 
his  curling  beard,  full  of  chaff,  and  his  white  shoulder 
showing  through  a  tear  in  his  shirt  —  they  will  carry  him 
off  too.  But  now  he  gathers  up  the  sheaves,  and  gives  his 
commands,  and  shouts  to  the  women,  and,  with  quick 
motions,  arranges  the  belt  on  the  machine.  And  it  will  be 
the  same  with  me.  They  will  carry  me  away,  and  nothing 
of  me  will  be  left.     Why  ?  " 

And,  in  the  midst  of  his  meditations,  he  mechanically 
took  out  his  watch  to  calculate  how  much  they  threshed 
in  an  hour.  It  was  his  duty  to  do  this,  so  that  he  could 
pay  the  men  fairly  for  their  day's  work. 

"  So  far,  only  three  ricks,"  he  said  to  himself ;  and 
he  went  to  the  machine-tender,  and,  trying  to  make 
his  voice  heard  above  the  racket,  told  him  to  work 
faster. 

"  You  put  in  too  much  at  once,  Feodor ;  you  see  it 
stops  it,  so  it  wastes  time.     Do  it  more  regularly." 

Feodor,  his  face  black  with  dust  and  sweat,  shouted 
back  some  unintelligible  reply,  but  entirely  failed  to 
carry  out  Levin's  directions. 


368  ANNA    KARENINA 

He  mounted  the  drum,  took  Feodor's  place,  and  began 
to  do  the  feeding. 

He  worked  thus  till  it  was  the  muzhiks'  dinner-hour, 
not  a  very  long  time  ;  and  then,  in  company  with  Feodor, 
he  left  the  barn,  and  talked  with  him,  leaning  against  a 
beautifully  stacked  pile  of  yellow  rye  saved  for  plant- 
ing. 

Feodor  was  from  a  distant  village,  the  very  one  where 
Levin  had  formerly  let  the  association  have  some  land. 
Now  it  was  rented  to  a  dvornik. 

Levin  talked  with  Feodor  about  this  land,  and  asked 
him  if  it  were  not  possible  that  Platon,  a  rich  and  trust- 
worthy muzhik  of  his  village,  would  take  it  for  the  next 
year. 

"  Price  too  high  ;  won't  catch  Platon,  Konstantin  Dmi- 
tritch,"  repHed  the  muzhik,  wiping  the  chaff  from  his 
sweaty  chest. 

"  Yes ;  but  how  does  Kirillof  make  money  out  of 
it.?" 

"  Mitiukh  !  "  —  by  this  contemptuous  diminutive  Feo- 
dor called  the  dvornik,  —  "  what  does  n't  he  make  money 
out  of  !  He  puts  on  the  screws  and  gets  the  last  drop  ! 
He  has  no  pity  on  the  peasants.  But  Uncle  Fokanuitch," 
—  so  he  called  the  old  man  Platon,  —  "does  he  try  to 
fleece  a  man  ?  And  he  gives  credit,  when  any  one  owes 
him.  He  does  not  try  to  squeeze  it  out  of  them.  He  's 
that  kind  of  a  man  !  " 

'•  Yes  ;  but  why  does  he  give  credit  ?  " 

"  Well,  of  course  men  differ.  One  lives  for  his  belly, 
like  Mitiukh  ;  but  Fokanuitch,  —  he  's  an  honest  man,  — 
he  lives  for  his  soul.     He  remembers  God." 

"  How  does  he  remember  God  and  live  for  his  soul  ? " 
exclaimed  Levin,  eagerly. 

"  Why,  that 's  plain  enough.     It 's  to  live  according  to 

God according  to  truth.     People  differ.     Take  you, 

Konstantin  Dmitritch,  for  example  ;  you  could  n't  wrong 
a  man."  .... 

"Yes,  yes;  prasJicha'i — good-by,"  exclaimed  Levin, 
deeply  moved ;  and,  taking  his  cane,  he  turned  toward 
the  house. 


ANNA    KARENINA  369 

As  he  recalled  the  muzhik's  words,  how  "  Fokanuitch 
lived  for  his  soul,  according  to  God ....  according  to 
truth,"  confused  but  weighty  thoughts  arose  within  him 
from  some  hidden  source,  and  filled  his  soul  with  their 
brilliant  light. 


CHAPTER    XII 

Levin,  with  long  steps,  strode  along  the  highway, 
filled,  not  so  much  with  his  thoughts,  —  he  could  not 
as  yet  get  rid  of  them,  —  as  with  a  spiritual  impulse, 
such  as  he  had  never  known  before. 

The  peasant's  words  had  had  in  his  soul  the  effect  of 
an  electric  spark,  suddenly  condensing  the  cloud  of  dim, 
incoherent  thoughts,  which  had  not  ceased  to  fill  his 
mind,  even  while  he  was  talking  about  the  letting  of  his 
field. 

He  felt  that  some  new  impulse,  inexplicable  as  yet, 
filled  his  heart  with  joy. 

"  Not  to  live  for  one's  self,  but  for  God  !  What  God  ? 
Could  he  have  said  anything  more  meaningless  than 
what  he  said .''  H  j  said  that  we  must  live,  not  for  our- 
selves, that  is,  for  what  interests  and  pleases  us,  but  for 
something  incomprehensibh,  for  God,  whom  no  one 
knows  or  can  define.  Still,  call  it  nonsense,  lid  I  under- 
stand Feodor .''  Did  n't  I  also  feel  convinced  of  its  truth  ? 
Did  I  find  it  either  false  or  .bsurd  ? 

"  Nay  ;  I  understood  it,  Ctud  find  in  it  the  same  mean- 
ing as  he  finds,  and  understood  it  more  completely  and 
clearly  than  anything  else  in  life.  And  not  alone  I, 
but  all,  all  the  world,  perfectly  understand  this  and  have 
no  doubt  of  it,  and  are  unanimous  in  its  favor. 

"And  I  was  seeking  for  miracles,  and  regretting  that 
I  could  not  see  one  which  might  fill  me  with  amazement. 
A  material  miracle  would  have  seduced  me.  But  the 
real  miracle,  the  only  one  possibly  existing,  surrounds 
me  on  all  sides  —  and  I  have  not  remarked  it. 

"  Feodor  says  Kirillof,  the  dvornik,  lives  for  his  belly. 
Jl   know  what   he  means  by   that.      No   rational  being 

VOL.  III.  — 24 


370  ANNA    KARENINA 

none  of  us,  can  live  in  any  other  way.  But  Feodor  says, 
too,  that  it  is  wrong  to  live  for  the  belly,  but  that  we 
should  live  for  truth,  for  God ;  and  I  know  what  that 
means  as  well.  I,  and  millions  of  men,  muzhiks,  and 
sages  who  have  thought  and  written  on  the  subject,  or 
in  their  obscure  language  have  talked  about  it,  in  the 
past  and  in  the  present,  —  we  are  in  accord  on  one 
point;  and  that  is,  that  we  should  live  for  'the  good.' 
The  only  knowledge  that  I  and  all  men  possess  that 
is  clear,  indubitable,  absolute,  is  here.  We  have  not 
reached  it  by  reason.  Reason  excludes  it,  for  it  has 
neither  cause  nor  effect.  'The  good,'  if  it  had  a  cause, 
would  cease  to  be  the  good ;  if  it  had  an  effect,  —  a  re- 
ward, —  it  would  cease  to  be  the  good.  The  good  must 
be  outside  of  the  chain  of  cause  and  effect.  And  I 
know  this,  and  we  all  know  it.  Can  there  be  greater 
miracle  than  this  ? 

"Have  I  really  found  the  solution  of  my  doubts .-" 
Shall  I  cease  to  suffer  ? "  Levin  asked  himself  as  he 
followed  the  dusty  road,  insensible  to  weariness  and 
heat,  and  feeling  that  his  long  travail  was  at  an  end. 
The  sensation  was  so  delightful,  that  he  could  not  be- 
lieve that  it  was  true.  He  choked  with  emotion  ;  his 
strength  failed  him ;  and  he  left  the  highroad,  and  went 
into  the  woods,  and  sat  down  under  the  shadow  of 
an  aspen  on  the  unmown  grass.  He  uncovered  his 
moist  forehead,  and  stretched  himself  out  on  the  succu- 
lent wood-grass,  and  leaned  his  head  on  his  hand. 

"  Yes,  I  must  reflect  and  consider,"  he  thought,  look- 
ing attentively  at  the  untrodden  grass  in  front  of  him, 
and  watching  the  movements  of  an  earth-beetle  crawl- 
ing up  the  stalk  of  couch-grass,  and  stopped  by  a  leaf. 
"What  discovery  have  I  made.''"  he  said  to  himself, 
removing  the  leaf  from  the  beetle's  way,  and  bending 
down  another  stalk  of  couch-grass  to  help  the  beetle  on. 
"  What  makes  me  so  happy .-'  What  discovery  have  I 
made  ? 

"  I  have  made  no  discovery.  I  have  only  opened  my 
eyes  to  what  I  already  know.  I  have  learned  to  recog- 
nize that  power  which  formerly  gave  me  life,  and  gives 


ANNA    KARENINA  371 

me  life  again  to-day.  I  have  freed  myself  from  error. 
I  have  come  to  know  my  master. 

"  T  used  to  say  that  there  was  going  on  in  my  body, 
in  the  body  of  this  grass,  in  the  body  of  this  beetle,"  — 
the  beetle  did  not  want  to  go  to  the  other  stalk,  but 
spread  its  wings,  and  flew  away,  —  "  incessant  change 
of  matter,  in  conformity  to  certain  physical,  chemical, 
and  physiological  laws ;  and  in  all  of  us,  together  with 
the  aspens  and  the  clouds,  and  the  nebulae,  there  was 
evolution.  Evolution  from  what .''  into  what .-'  Endless 
evolution  and  conflict.  —  But  was  conflict  with  the  Infi- 
nite possible .''  And  I  was  surprised  to  find  nothing 
along  this  line,  in  spite  of  my  best  efforts,  which  could 
reveal  to  me  the  meaning  of  my  life,  my  motives,  my 
longings.  But  the  consciousness  that  there  is  a  mean- 
ing is,  nevertheless,  so  strong  and  clear,  that  it  forms 
the  very  foundation  of  my  existence ;  and  I  marveled 
and  rejoiced  when  the  muzhik  said,  'To  live  for  God, 
for  the  soul.' 

"  Now  I  can  say  that  I  know  the  meaning  of  life  :  it 
is  to  live  for  God,  for  my  own  soul.  And  this  meaning, 
in  spite  of  its  clearness,  is  mysterious  and  miraculous. 
And  such  is  the  meaning  of  all  existence.  Yes,  there 
is  pride,"  said  he  to  himself,  turning  over  on  his  stomach 
and  beginning  to  tie  into  a  knot  the  stalks  of  grass, 
while  trying  not  to  break  them.  "  Not  only  pride  of 
intellect,  but  the  stupidity  of  intellect.  Yes,  it  is  the 
wickedness  of  intellect,"  he  repeated. 

He  succinctly  went  over  in  memory  the  course  of  his 
thought  for  the  last  two  years,  from  the  day  when  the 
idea  of  death  struck  him,  on  seeing  his  beloved  brother 
hopelessly  sick. 

Then  he  had  clearly  resolved  that,  since  man  had  no 
other  prospect  than  suffering,  death,  and  eternal  oblivion, 
he  must  either  commit  suicide,  or  find  the  explanation 
of  the  problem  of  existence,  and  in  such  manner  as  to 
see  in  it  something  more  than  the  cruel  irony  of  a  malevo- 
lent spirit. 

But  he  had  not  done  either,  but  continued  to  live,  to 
:hink,  and  to  feel.      He  had  married,  and  had  experienced 


372  ANNA   KARENINA 

new  joys,  which  made  him  happy  when  he  did  not  pon. 
der  on  the  meaning  of  life. 

What  did  this  mean  ?  It  meant  that  he  was  thinking 
badly,  and  living  well.  Without  knowing  it,  he  had  been 
sustained  by  those  spiritual  verities  which  he  had  sucked 
in  with  his  mother's  milk,  and  he  indulged  in  thought, 
not  only  now  not  recognizing  those  truths,  but  even  stren- 
uously avoiding  them.  Now  it  was  clear  to  him  that  he 
could  live  only  through  the  blessed  influence  of  the  faith 
in  which  he  had  been  taught. 

"  What  should  I  have  been,  how  should  I  have  lived, 
if  I  had  not  absorbed  these  beliefs....  if  I  had  not  known 
that  I  must  live  for  God,  and  not  for  the  satisfaction  of 
my  desires  ?  I  should  have  been  a  thief,  a  liar,  a  mur- 
derer. Nothing  of  what  seems  the  chief  joy  of  my  life 
would  have  had  any  existence  for  me." 

And,  though  he  made  the  most  strenuous  efforts  of  his 
imagination,  he  could  not  picture  to  himself  what  kind 
of  a  wild  creature  he  might  have  been,  if  he  had  not 
really  known  the  aim  of  his  existence. 

"  I  was  in  search  of  an  answer  to  my  question  ;  thought 
could  not  give  it,  for  the  problem  was  too  lofty.  Life 
itself,  with  the  innate  knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  alone 
could  give  me  an  answer.  And  this  knowledge  I  did 
not  acquire.  It  was  given  to  me,  like  all  the  rest ;  given, 
I  could  not  know  where  to  get  it.  Did  I  get  it  from 
reason  .-'  But  would  reason  ever  have  proved  to  me  that 
I  ought  to  love  my  neighbor,  instead  of  choking  him  } 
I  was  taught  it  in  my  childhood  ;  but  I  believed  it  gladly, 
because  it  was  already  existent  in  my  soul.  Reason  dis- 
covered the  struggle  for  existence,  —  that  law  which 
demands  the  overthrow  of  every  obstacle  in  the  way  of 
our  desires.  That  is  the  result  of  reason  ;  but  reason 
has  nothing  to  do  with  loving  our  neighbor." 

CHAPTER    XIII 

Levin  remembered  a  recent  scene  between  Dolly  and 
her  children.  The  children  had  been  left  alone,  and  had 
amused  themselves  by  making  raspberry  jam  over  a  can- 


ANNA    KARENTNA  373 

die,  and  throwing  milk  into  each  other's  faces.  Their 
mother,  catching  them  in  the  act,  scolded  them  in  their 
uncle's  presence,  and  sought  to  make  them  understand 
how  much  work  was  involved  in  what  they  were  destroy- 
ing, that  the  labor  was  performed  for  their  benefit ;  that, 
if  they  broke  the  cups,  they  could  n't  have  anything  to 
drink  from  ;  and  if  they  wasted  their  milk,  they  would  n't 
have  any  more,  and  would  starve  to  death. 

Levin  was  struck  by  the  indifference  and  skepticism 
with  which  the  children  heard  their  mother's  words. 
They  were  only  sorry  to  have  their  interesting  sport 
interrupted,  and  they  did  not  believe  a  word  of  what 
she  said.  They  did  not  believe,  because  they  did  not. 
know  the  value  of  what  they  were  playing  with,  and  did 
not  understand  that  they  were  destroying  their  own 
means  of  subsistence. 

"That  is  all  very  well,"  they  thought;  "but  there  is 
nothing  interesting  or  worth  while  in  it,  because  it  is 
always  the  same,  and  always  will  be.  And  it  is  monoto- 
nous. We  don't  have  to  think  about  it,  it  is  done  for 
lis ;  but  we  do  like  to  do  something  new  and  original ; 
and  here  we  were  making  jam  in  a  cup  over  the  candle, 
and  squirting  the  milk  into  each  others'  faces.  It  is  fun. 
It  is  new,  and  not  half  so  stupid  as  to  drink  milk  out  of 
a  cup." 

"  Is  it  not  thus  that  we  act,  is  it  not  the  way  I  have 
acted,  in  trying  to  penetrate  by  reasoning  the  secrets  of 
nature  and  the  problem  of  human  life.-'  Is  it  not  the 
same  that  all  the  philosophers  have  done  with  their 
theories  which  lead,  by  a  course  of  reasoning  strange 
and  unnatural  to  man,  to  the  knowledge  of  what  he  long 
has  known,  and  known  so  surely  that  without  it  he  could 
not  live  ?  Do  we  not  see  clearly,  in  the  development  of 
the  theory  of  each,  that  the  real  meaning  of  human  exis- 
tence is  as  indubitably  known  as  it  is  known  to  Feodor, 
the  muzhik ;  and  do  they  see  any  more  clearly  than  he 
does  the  principal  meaning  of  life.-'  Do  they  not  all 
come  back  to  this,  even  though  it  be  by  a  route  which 
is  often  equivocal  ?  If  we  were  to  leave  the  children  to 
get  their  own  living,  make  their  own  utensils,  do  the 


374  ANNA    KARENINA 

milking,  instead  ot  playing  pranks,  they  would  die  of 
hunger. 

"  There;  now !  give  us  over  to  our  own  ideas  and  pas- 
sions, with  no  knowledge  of  our  Creator,  without  the 
consciousness  of  moral  good  and  evil,  and  what  would 
be  the  result?  We  reason  because  we  are  spiritually 
satiated.  We  are  children.  Whence  comes  this  joyous 
knowledge,  which  I  share  with  the  muzhik,  and  which 
alone  gives  me  serenity  of  spirit.'  Where  did  I  get  it.? 
Here  am  I,  a  Christian,  brought  up  in  the  faith,  sur- 
rounded by  the  blessings  of  Christianity,  living  upon 
these  spiritual  blessings  without  being  conscious  of  them  ; 
and  like  children  I  have  been  reasoning,  or  at  least  try- 
ing to  reason,  out  the  meaning  of  life. 

"  But  in  the  serious  moments  of  life,  in  the  hour  of 
suffering,  just  as  when  children  are  cold  and  hungry,  I 
turn  to  Him,  and,  like  these  same  children  whom  their 
mother  reprimands  for  their  childish  faults,  I  feel  that 
my  childish  efforts  to  get  out  of  the  mad  circle  of  rea- 
soning have  done  me  no  good. 

"Yes,  reason  has  taught  me  nothing.  What  I  know 
has  been  given,  revealed  to  me  through  the  heart,  and 
especially  through  faith  in  the  teachings  of  the  Church. 

"The  Church,  the  Church.?"  repeated  Levin,  turning 
over  again,  and,  as  he  rested  his  head  on  his  hand,  look- 
ing at  a  herd  of  cattle  down  by  the  river  at  a  distance. 
"Can  I  really  believe  all  that  the  Church  teaches.?"  said 
he,  to  test  himself,  and  to  bring  up  everything  that  might 
destroy  his  present  feeling  of  security.  He  expressly 
called  to  mind  the  Church  teachings  which  more  than 
all  had  seemed  strange  to  him,  and  disgusted  him. 

"Creation.?  Yes;  but  how  did  I  myself  explain  ex- 
istence .?  existence .?  the  devil .?  sin  .?  How  did  I  explain 
evil .?  redemption .? 

"  But  I  know  nothing  and  can  know  nothing  except 
what  is  told  me  and  every  one  else." 

And  now  it  seemed  to  him  that  not  one  of  these  Church 
dogmas  was  inimical  to  the  great  objects  of  life,  — -  faith 
in  God,  in  goodness. 

On  the  contrary,  all  tended  to  produce  that  greatest 


ANNA    KARENINA 


375 


of  miracles,  that  which  consists  in  enabling  the  whole 
world,  with  its  millions  ji  human  beings,  young  and  old, 
the  muzhik  and  Lvof,  and  Kitty  and  peasants  and  tsars, 
married  and  single,  tc  comprehend  the  same  great  truths, 
so  as  to  live  that  life  of  the  soul  which  alone  is  worth 
living,  and  which  is  our  only  aim. 

Lying  on  his  back,  he  looked  up  into  the  high,  cloud- 
less sky.  "Do  I  not  know,"  thought  he,  "that  that  is 
infinity  of  space,  and  not  a  vault  of  blue  stretching  above 
me .-'  But,  however  I  strain  my  sight,  I  can  see  only  a 
vaulted  dome;  and,  in  spite  of  my  knowledge  of  infinite 
space,  I  have  more  satisfaction  in  looking  at  it  as  a  blue, 
vaulted  dome,  than  when  I  try  to  look  beyond." 

Levin  stopped  thinking.  He  listened  to  the  myste- 
rious voices  which  seemed  to  wake  joyfully  in  him. 

"Is  it  really  faith.'"  he  thought,  fearing  to  believe  in 
his  happiness.  "My  God,  I  thank  Thee!"  he  cried; 
and  he  swallowed  down  the  sobs  that  arose,  and  brushed 
away  with  both  hands  the  tears  that  filled  his  eyes. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

Levin  looked  away,  and  saw  the  herd,  and  his  one- 
horse  telyega  and  his  coachman,  who  approached  the 
herd  of  cattle,  and  began  to  talk  to  the  herdsman.  Then 
he  heard  the  sound  of  wheels  and  the  neighing  of  the 
horse  ;  but  he  was  so  occupied  with  his  thoughts  that  he 
did  not  think  why  it  was  that  his  coachman  was  coming 
for  him. 

He  only  realized  it  when  the  coachman,  while  still 
some  distance  off,  cried :  — 

"  The  mistress  sent  for  you.  Your  brother  and  an- 
other barin  have  come." 

Levin  got  in  at  once,  and  took  the  reins. 

As  if  awakened  from  sleep,  if  was  long  before  he 
could  collect  his  thoughts.  He  looked  at  the  well-fed 
horse,  and  at  the  spot  on  his  neck  where  the  harness 
rubbed ;  and  he  looked  at  Ivan,  the  coachman,  sitting 
beside  him ;  and  he  thought  of  how  he  had  been  expect 


376  ANNA   KARENINA 

ing  his  brother,  and  that  his  wife  was  probably  troubled 
because  he  was  gone  so  long,  and  he  tried  to  guess  who 
the  unknown  guest  who  had  come  with  his  brother  might 
be.  And  his  brother  and  his  wife  and  the  unknown  guest 
now  seemed  to  him  different  from  what  they  had  been 
before.  He  felt  that  henceforth  all  his  relations  with 
these  friends  would  be  more  pleasant  than  they  had  been. 

"  Now  there  shall  be  no  more  of  that  coldness,  such 
as  there  used  to  be,  between  my  brother  and  me....  no 
more  disputes.  Nor  will  Kitty  and  I  quarrel  any  more  ; 
and  whoever  my  guest  is  I  shall  be  polite  to  him,  and 
kind  to  the  servants  and  to  Ivan  ....  all  will  be  dif- 
ferent." 

And  holding  in  his  good  horse,  which  was  whinnying 
with  impatience  and  pleading  for  permission  to  show  his 
paces,  Levin  kept  looking  at  Ivan,  who  was  sitting  next 
him,  not  knowing  what  to  do  with  his  idle  hands,  and 
constantly  pulling  down  his  shirt,  which  the  wind  tugged 
at ;  and  in  his  attempt  to  find  a  pretext  for  beginning  a 
conversation  with  the  man,  he  thought  of  saying  that 
the  horse's  girth  was  buckled  up  too  tightly,  but  then 
this  seemed  like  censuring  him,  and  he  wanted  to  say 
something  pleasant. 

"  You  had  better  turn  to  the  right  and  avoid  that 
stump,"  said  the  coachman,  taking  hold  of  one  of  the 
reins. 

"  Please  not  touch,  or  try  to  give  me  lessons,"  said 
Levin,  exasperated  by  his  coachman's  interference. 
Just  the  same  as  always  he  was  made  angry  by  any 
interference  with  his  affairs,  and  he  immediately  became 
conscious  how  mistaken  he  was  in  supposing  for  a 
moment  that  his  new  spiritual  condition  could  keep  its 
character  unchanged  on  contact  with  the  reality. 

When  they  had  arrived  within  a  quarter  of  a  verst  of 
the  house,  Levin  saw  Grisha  and  Tania  running  to  meet 
him. 

"  Uncle  Kostia,  mamma  is  coming,  and  grandpa  and 
Sergyei  Ivanovitch  and  some  one  else,"  they  cried,  as 
thev  ran  up  to  the  cart. 

''Tell  me,  who  is  it?" 


ANNA    KARENINA  377 

"Oh,  he  's  an  awful,  horrid  man,  who  does  so  with  his 
arms,"  said  Tania,  chmbing  up  into  the  cart  and  mimick- 
ing Katavasof. 

"  Tell  me,  is  he  young  or  old  ? "  asked  Levin,  laugh- 
ing, reminded  of  some  one  by  Tania's  performance. 

"  Akh,  I  only  hope  he  is  not  a  bore,"  said  Levin  to 
himself. 

As  soon  as  they  reached  a  turn  in  the  road  and  saw 
the  party  approaching,  Levin  recognized  Katavasof,  who 
was  in  a  straw  hat,  and  gesticulating  exactly  as  Tania 
had  represented  it. 

Katavasof  was  very  fond  of  talking  philosophy,  and 
his    conceptions   were  wholly  drawn  from    the    natural, 
sciences,   which    had    always    been   his    specialty ;    and 
in  Moscow  Levin  had  frequently  had  discussions  with 
him. 

And  one  of  these  discussions,  in  which  Katavasof  had 
evidently  felt  that  he  was  victorious,  occurred  to  Levin's 
mind  as  soon  as  he  saw  him. 

"  Henceforth,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  I  will  not  enter 
into  discussions,  or  express  myself  so  flippantly." 

Leaping  from  the  cart  and  joining  Katavasof  and  his 
brother,  he  asked  where  Kitty  was. 

"  She  has  taken  Mitya  to  Kolok,"  —  Kolok  was  a  piece 
of  woodland  near  the  house,  —  "she  wanted  to  get  him 
established  there,  it  was  so  hot  at  the  house,"  said 
Dolly. 

Levin  always  advised  his  wife  again.st  taking  the  baby 
to  the  woods,  because  he  felt  it  was  dangerous ;  so  this 
news  was  not  pleasant  to  him. 

"  She  carries  that  son  of  hers  from  one  place  to 
another,"  said  the  old  prince.  "  I  told  her  she  'd  better 
try  the  ice-house." 

"  She  wanted  to  go  to  the  beehives.  She  thought 
you  were  there,"  added  Dolly.  "  That  is  where  we  were 
going." 

"  Well,  what  have  you  been  doing  that 's  good  ? " 
said  Sergye'i  Ivanovitch,  dropping  behind  the  others, 
and  walking  with  his  brother. 

"  Oh,  nothing  particular  ;  as  usual,  busy  with  the  farm- 


n8  ANNA    KARENINA 

ing.^  You  '11  stay  with  us  awhile,  now  ?  We  've  been 
expecting  you  a  long  time." 

"  Only  a  fortnight.  I  have  a  great  deal  tc  ^o  at 
Moscow." 

At  these  words  the  two  brothers  looked  at  one  another, 
and  Levin,  in  spite  of  his  usual  and  now  especially 
strong  desire  to  have  friendly,  and  above  all  simple, 
relations  with  his  brother,  felt  that  it  was  awkward  for 
him  to  look  at  him.  He  dropped  his  eyes  and  was  at 
a  loss  what  to  say. 

Trying  to  select  some  topic  of  conversation  which 
would  be  agreeable  to  Sergyei  Ivanovitch,  and  avoiding 
the  Serbian  war  and  the  Slavonic  question,  a  hint  at 
which  Sergyei  Ivanovitch's  remark  about  his  occupation 
in  Moscow  gave.  Levin  began  to  talk  about  his  brother's 
book. 

"  Well,"  he  asked,  "  have  there  been  many  reviews  of 
your  book .'' " 

Sergyei  Ivanovitch  smiled  at  the  intention  of  the 
question. 

"  No  one  thinks  anything  about  it,  —  I,  least  of  all," 
he  said.  "  You  see,  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  we  're  going 
to  have  a  shower,"  he  added,  pointing  with  his  umbrella 
to  the  white  clouds  which  were  piling  up  above  the 
aspen-tops. 

It  was  evident  by  these  words  that  the  relationship 
between  the  brothers,  which  Levin  wanted  to  overcome, 
was  just  the  same  as  of  old,  —  if  not  unfriendly,  at  least 
cool. 

Levin  approached  Katavasof. 

"  How  good  it  was  of  you  to  come  to  us  !  "  said  he. 

"  I  have  wanted  to  come  for  a  long  time.  Now  we 
shall  have  time  to  talk.     Have  you  read  Spencer.''" 

"  Not  thoroughly,  I  don't  get  anything  out  of  him." 

"  How  so  ?  that  is  interesting.     Why  is  that  ?  " 

"  I  have  definitely  made  up  my  mind  that  the  answers 
to  certain  questions  which  interest  me  are  not  to  be 
found  in  him  or  his  followers.     Now  ...." 

But  he  was   suddenly   struck   by    the    pleasant    and 

^  Khozya'istvo. 


ANNA    KARENINA  jy^ 

serene  expression  of  Katavasot's  face,  and  he  felt  so 
sorry  at  having:  evidently  disturbed  his  mental  equi- 
librium by  his  remark,  that,  suddenly  remembering  his 
resolution,  he  stopped  short.  '  However.  \vc  will  talk 
about  that  by  and  by,"  he  added.  "If  we  are  going  to 
the  apiary  let  us  go  this  way,  by  this  path,"  he  said, 
turning  to  the  others. 

Passing  through  a  narrow  path  along  by  an  unmown 
field,  covered  on  one  side  with  an  abundance  of  those 
bright  flowers  called  I  van-da- Mary  a,  and  in  the  midst  of 
which  grew  frequent  patches  of  the  tall,  dark  green 
hellebore.  Levin  led  his  guests  —  who  were  afraid  of 
being  stung  —  to  the  cool  dense  shade  of  some  young 
aspens,  and  established  them  on  some  benches  and  logs 
especially  prepared  for  the  purpose  of  receiving  the  bee- 
hives, and  he  himself  went  to  the  storehouse  to  fetch 
for  the  children,  and  the  grown  people  as  well,  some 
bread,  cucumbers,  and  fresh  honey. 

Trying  to  make  as  little  disturbance  as  possible,  and 
listening  to  the  bees,  which  came  flying  more  and  more 
thickly  around  him,  he  strode  along  the  path  that  led 
to  the  izba.  At  the  very  door,  a  bee  entangled  in  his 
beard  began  to  buzz,  but  he  carefully  freed  himself  from 
it.  Going  into  the  cool  entry,  he  took  his  wire  mask 
down  from  the  peg  where  it  hung,  and  put  it  on,  and, 
thrusting  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  he  went  into  the 
inclosure  of  the  apiary,  where,  amid  a  smoothly  shaven 
lawn,  stood  in  straight  rows  on  linden  stakes  all  the  old 
hives,  each  having  for  him  its  own  special  history,  while 
the  newer  ones  which  had  been  set  up  that  year  were 
ranged  along  the  wall.  At  the  entrance  of  the  hives 
he  could  see  the  young  bees  and  the  drones  clustering 
together  and  tumbling  over  one  another,  while  in  their 
midst  the  working  bees  were  industriously  darting  off  in 
a  straight  line  toward  the  forest,  where  the  linden  trees 
were  in  bloom,  and  quickly  returning  laden  with  their 
pollen. 

His  ears  were  filled  with  the  incessant,  monotonous 
humming  made  by  the  workers  as  they  flew  in  with 
their  burdens,  by  the  drones  enjoying  their  holiday,  and 


jSo  ANNA    KARENINA 

by  the  guardian  bees  giving  warning  of  the  approach  of 
an  enemy  and  ready  to  sting. 

On  one  side  of  the  inclosure  the  old  bee-keeper  was 
smoothing  a  hoop,  and  did  not  see  Levin ;  and  Levin, 
without  speaking  to  him,  stood  in  the  midst  of  his 
apiary. 

He  was  glad  of  the  chance  of  being  alone  so  as  to 
collect  himself  in  face  of  the  reality  which  had  so  sud- 
denly come  into  vivid  contrast  with  his  recent  state  of 
mind. 

He  remembered  that  he  had  already  been  angry  with 
Ivan,  had  shown  coldness  to  his  brother,  and  had  spoken 
foolishly  with  Katavasof. 

"  Can  it  be  possible  that  my  happiness  was  only  a 
transitory  feeling,  which  will  pass  away,  and  leave  no 
trace  behind  .-' " 

But  at  the  same  moment  as  he  analyzed  his  state  of 
mind,  he  felt  with  joy  that  his  experience  had  left  new 
and  important  results.  Practical  life  had  only  temporarily 
disturbed  the  spiritual  calm  which  he  had  found ;  but  in 
his  heart  it  was  still  intact.  Just  as  the  bees,  buzzing 
around  him,  threatened  him,  and  robbed  him  of  his 
physical  calm,  and  compelled  him  to  defend  himself, 
so  did  the  cares  which  surrounded  him,  as  he  sat  in  his 
little  cart,  disturb  his  spiritual  calm  ;  but  this  lasted  only 
while  he  was  in  their  midst.  Just  as  his  physical  strength 
was  intact  while  he  was  defending  himself  against  the 
bees,  so  his  newly  attained  spiritual  power  was  also 
unimpaired. 


CHAPTER    XV 

"Do  you  know,  Kostia,  whom  SergyeT  Ivanovitch 
found  on  the  train  ? "  said  Dolly,  after  she  had  given 
her  children  their  cucumbers  and  honey.  "  Vronsky. 
He  's  going  to  Serbia." 

"Yes!  and  not  alone  either.  He's  taking  out  a 
squadron  of  cavalry  at  his  own  expense,"  said  Katavasof. 

"That's  like  him,"  an.swered  Levin.     "But  are  vol 


ANNA    KARENINA  381 

unteers  still  going  off  ? "  added  he,  looking  at  Sergyef 
Ivanovitch 

Sergyei  Ivanovitch  was  busy  with  a  knife-blade  rescu- 
ing a  live  bee  from  the  honey  that  had  flowed  out  of  the 
white  honeycomb  at  the  bottom  of  his  cup,  and  he  did 
not  answer. 

"  Indeed  !  I  should  say  so  !  "  said  Katavasof,  biting 
into  a  cucumber.  "  If  you  had  only  seen  them  at  the 
station  this  morning  !  " 

"  Now,  what  an  idea  this  is !  For  Christ's  sake,  tell 
me,  Sergyei  Ivanovitch,  where  all  these  volunteers  are 
going,  and  whom  they  are  going  to  fight  with.?"  asked 
the  old  prince,  evidently  pursuing  a  conversation  which 
the)  had  begun  before  Levin  joined  them. 

"  With  the  Turks,"  answered  Sergyei  Ivanovitch, 
smiling  quietly,  as  he  at  last  rescued  the  helpless  honey- 
smeared  bee  on  the  point  of  his  knife,  and  set  him  on 
an  aspen  leaf. 

"  But  who  has  declared  war  on  the  Turks  ?  Is  it  Ivan 
Ivanovitch  Ragozof  and  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna 
and  Madame  Stahl  ?  " 

"  No  one  has  declared  war  ;  but  the  people  sympathize 
with  their  oppressed  brethren,  and  want  to  help  them," 
said  Sergyei  Ivanovitch. 

"  The  prince  was  not  speaking  of  help,  but  of  war," 
said  Levin,  coming  to  the  assistance  of  his  father-in-law. 
"  The  prince  means  that  private  persons  have  no  right 
to  take  part  in  a  war  without  being  authorized  by  the 
government." 

"  Kostia,  look  out !  there  's  a  bee  !  Won't  he  sting  ?  " 
cried  Dolly,  defending  herself  from  a  wasp. 

"  That 's  not  a  bee  ;  that 's  a  wasp  !  "  said  Levin. 

"Come,  now!  give  us  your  theory,"  demanded  Kata- 
vasof, evidently  provoking  Levin  to  a  discussion.  "  Why 
shouldn't  private  persons  have  that  right.-'" 

"Well,  my  theory  is  this:  war,  on  the  one  hand,  is 
such  a  terrible,  such  an  atrocious,  thing  that  no  man,  at 
least  no  Christian  man,  has  the  right  to  assume  the 
responsibility  of  beginning  it  ;  but  it  belongs  to  govern- 
ment alone,  when  it  becomes  inevitable.     On  the  other 


382  ANNA    KARENINA 

hand,  both  in  law  and  in  common  sense,  where  there  are 
state  questions,  and  above  all  in  matters  concerning  war, 
private  citizens  have  no  right  to  use  their  own  wills." 

Sergye'i  Ivanovitch  and  Katavasof  were  both  ready 
at  the  same  instant  with  answers. 

"That's  where  you're  mistaken,  batyushka,"  said 
Katavasof.  "  There  may  be  cases  when  government 
does  not  carry  out  the  will  of  its  citizens,  and  then 
society  declares  its  own  will." 

But  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  did  not  approve  of  this  reply. 
He  frowned  as  Katavasof  spoke,  and  put  it  another 
way  : : — 

'•  You  state  the  question  all  wrong.  Here  there  is  no 
declaration  of  war,  but  simply  an  expression  of  human, 
of  Christian,  sympathy.  Our  brethren,  men.of  the  same 
blood,  the  same  faith,  are  butchered.  Now,  we  do  not 
merely  regard  them  as  brethren  and  as  corehgionists, 
but  as  women,  children,  old  men.  Our  feeUngs  are 
stirred,  and  the  whole  Russian  people  fly  to  help  check 
these  horrors.  Suppose  you  were  walking  in  the  street, 
and  saw  a  drunken  man  beating  a  woman  or  a  child. 
I  think  you  would  not  stop  to  ask  whether  war  had  been 
declared  or  had  not  been  declared  on  such  a  man  before 
you  attacked  him  and  protected  the  object  of  his  fury." 

"No;  but  I  should  not  kill  him." 

"  Yes,  you  might  even  kill  him." 

"  I  don't  know.  If  I  saw  such  a  sight,  I  might  yield 
to  the  immediate  feeling.  I  cannot  tell  how  it  would 
be.  But  in  the  oppression  of  the  Slavs,  there  is  not, 
and  cannot  be,  such  a  powerful  motive." 

"  Perhaps  not  for  you,  but  other  people  think  differ- 
ently," said  Sergye'i  Ivanovitch,  angrily.  "The  people 
still  keep  the  tradition  of  sympathy  with  brethren  of  the 
orthodox  faith,  who  are  groaning  under  the  yoke  of  the 
'unspeakable  Turk.'  They  have  heard  of  their  terrible 
sufferings,  and  are  aroused." 

"That  may  be,"  answered  Levin,  in  a  conciliatory 
tone,  "  only  I  don't  see  it.  I  myself  am  one  of  the 
people,  and  I  don't  feel  it." 

"  I  can  say  the  same,"  put  in  the  old  prince.      "  I  was 


ANNA   KARENINA  383 

living  atDroad ;  I  read  the  newspapers,  and  I  learned 
about  the  Bulgarian  atrocities  ;  but  I  never  could  under- 
stand why  all  Russia  took  such  a  sudden  fancy  for  their 
Slavic  brethren.  I  am  sure  I  never  felt  the  slightest 
love  for  them.  I  was  greatly  ashamed.  I  thought  I 
must  be  either  a  monster,  or  that  Carlsbad  had  a  bad 
effect  on  me.  But  since  I  have  come  back,  I  don't  feel 
stirred  at  all ;  and  I  find  that  I  am  not  the  only  one 
who  is  not  so  much  interested  in  the  Slav  brethren  as  in 
Russia.     Here  is  Konstantin." 

"Private  opinions  are  of  no  consequence  —  there  is 
no  meaning  in  private  opinions  —  when  all  Russia,  whe.n 
the  whole  people,  signified  what  they  wished,"  said 
Sergyei'  Ivanovitch. 

"Yes.  Excuse  me.  I  don't  see  this.  The  people 
don't  know  anything,"  said  the  prince. 

"  But,  papa,  how  about  that  Sunday  in  church  .-• "  said 
Dolly,  who  had  been  listening  to  the  conversation.  — 
"  Get  me  a  towel,  please,"  she  said  in  an  aside  to  the 
old  bee-keeper,  who  was  looking  at  the  children  with  a 
friendly  smile.     "  It  can't  be  that  all ,..." 

"  Well !  What  about  that  Sunday  at  church  ?  They 
tell  the  priest  to  read  a  prayer.  He  reads  it.  Nobody 
understands  one  word.  They  snore  just  as  they  do  dur- 
ing the  whole  sermon,"  continued  the  prince.  "  Then 
they  tell  them  that  the  salvation  of  their  souls  is  in 
question.  Then  they  pull  out  their  kopeks,  and  give 
them,  but  why  they  have  not  the  least  idea." 

"  The  people  cannot  know  their  destiny.  They  have 
an  instinctive  feeling,  and  at  times  like  these  they  show 
it,"  said  Sergyei  Ivanovitch,  looking  at  the  old  bee- 
keeper. 

The  handsome,  tall  old  man,  with  his  black  beard, 
wherein  a  few  gray  hairs  were  beginning  to  show,  and 
with  his  thick,  silvery  hair,  stood  motionless,  holding  A 
cup  of  honey  in  his  hand,  looking  at  the  gentlemen 
with  a  mild,  placid  air,  evidently  not  understanding  a 
word  of  the  conversation,  nor  caring  to  understand. 

He  nodded  his  head  with  deliberation  as  he  heard 
Sergyei"  Ivanovitch's  words,  and  said  :  — 


384  ANNA    KARENINA 

"That's  certainly  so." 

"Well,  now!  Ask  him  about  it,"  said  Levin.  "He 
doesn't  know.  He  doesn't  think.  —  Have  you  heard 
about  the  war,  Mikhailuitch  .■* "  asked  he  of  the  old  man. 
"  You  know  what  was  read  on  Sunday  at  church,  don't 
you  .^  What  do  you  think  ?  Ought  we  to  fight  for  the 
Christians .'' " 

"  Why  should  we  think  .-*  Our  Emperor  Aleksander 
Nikolayevitch  will  think  for  us,  as  in  everything  else. 
He  knows  what  to  do.  —  Should  you  like  some  more 
bread.''  shall  I  give  some  to  the  little  lad.''"  asked  he, 
turning  to  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  and  pointing  to  Grisha, 
who  was  munching  a  crust. 

"  What 's  the  use  of  asking  him  .-'  "  said  Sergyef  Ivan- 
ovitch.  "  We  have  seen,  and  still  see,  hundreds  and 
hundreds  of  men  abandoning  all  they  possess,  giving 
their  last  penny,  enlisting  and  trooping  from  every 
corner  of  Russia,  all  clearly  and  definitely  expressing 
their  thought  and  purpose.     What  does  that  signify  ?  " 

"  It  signifies,  in  my  opinion,"  said  Levin,  beginning 
to  get  excited,  "  that  out  of  eighty  millions  of  men,  there 
will  always  be  found  hundreds,  and  even  thousands, 
who  have  lost  their  social  position,  are  restless,  and  are 
ready  to  take  up  the  first  adventure  that  comes  along, 
whether  it  is  to  follow  Pugatchof  or  to  go  to  Khiva  or 
to  fight  in  Serbia." 

"  I  tell  you  they  are  not  adventurers  who  devote  them- 
selves to  this  work,  but  they  are  the  best  representatives 
of  the  nation,"  cried  Sergyei  Ivanuitch,  excitedly,  as 
if  he  were  defending  his  last  position.  "  There  are  the 
contributions  ;  is  n't  that  a  test  of  popular  feeling  .''  " 

"  That  word  '  people '  is  so  vague,"  said  Levin  ;  "  long- 
haired scribblers,  professors,  and  perhaps  one  in  a  thou- 
sand among  the  peasants  understand  what  it  is  all  about, 
but  the  rest  of  the  eighty  millions  do  as  Mikhailuitch 
here  does.  They  not  only  don't  express  their  will,  but 
they  have  n't  the  slightest  idea  that  they  have  any  will 
to  express.  What  right,  then,  have  we  to  say  that  this 
is  the  will  of  the  people .-' " 


ANNA    KARENINA  385 


CHAPTER  XVI 

Sergyei'  Ivanovitch  was  skilled  in  dialectics,  and 
without  replying  he  took  up  another  side  of  the  ques- 
tion. 

"  Yes,  if  you  want  to  get  at  the  mind  of  the  nation  by 
an  arithmetical  process,  of  course  it  will  be  very  hard 
work.  We  have  not  the  proper  gifts,  and  cannot  reckon 
it  that  way.  But  there  are  other  means  of  learning  it 
besides  arithmetic.  It  is  felt  in  the  air,  it  is  felt  in  the 
heart,  not  to  speak  of  those  submarine  currents  which 
flow  through  the  stagnant  ocean  of  the  people  and  which 
are  evident  to  every  unprejudiced  person.  Take  society 
in  a  narrower  sense.  Take  the  intelligent  classes,  and 
see  how  on  this  point  even  the  most  hostile  parties  com- 
bine. There  is  no  longer  a  difference  of  opinions ;  all 
the  organs  of  society  express  the  same  thing.  They 
have  all  become  aware  of  an  elemental  force  which  fills 
the  nation  with  its  own  motive  power." 

"  Yes ;  the  newspapers  all  say  the  same  thing,  that 
is  true,"  said  the  old  prince,  "but  then,  so  do  all  the 
frogs  croak  before  a  storm.    That  does  n't  signify  much." 

"  Whether  frogs  or  not,  —  I  don't  edit  newspapers, 
and  I  don't  set  up  to  defend  them.  I  am  talking  of 
the  unanimity  of  opinion  among  intelligent  people," 
said  Sergyei   Ivanovitch,  turning  to  his  brother. 

Levin  was  about  to  reply,  but  the  old  prince  took  the 
words  from  his  mouth  :  — 

"  Well,  something  else  may  be  said  in  regard  to  that 
unanimity.  Here 's  my  son-in-law,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, 
you  know.  He  has  just  been  appointed  member  of  some 
committee,  commission,  or  other,  —  I  don't  know  what, 
—  with  a  salary  of  eight  thousand  a  year,  and  nothing 
to  do.  —  Now,  Dolly,  that's  not  a  secret. — Ask  him  if 
his  office  is  useful ;  he  will  tell  you  that  it  is  indispensa- 
ble. And  he  is  an  upright  man;  but  you  could  not 
make  him  cease  to  believe  in  his  full  eight  thousand 
salary." 

"  Oh,  yes !  he  told  me  to  tell  Darya  Aleksandrovna 
VOL.  in.  —  25 


386  ANNA    KARENINA 

that  he  had  got  that  place,"  said  Sergyei'  Ivanovitch, 
angrily,  considering  that  the  prince's  remark  was  not 
a  propos. 

"  Of  course  the  newspapers  are  unanimous.  That  is 
easily  explained.  War  will  double  their  circulation. 
How  can  they  help  supporting  the  Slavic  question  and 
the  national  instinct .'' " 

"  I  don't  like  many  of  the  papers,  but  you  are  unjust," 
said  Sergyei  Ivanovitch. 

"  I  will  only  add  one  more  suggestion.'  said  the  old 
prince,  "  Alphonse  Karr  wrote  a  clever  thing  just 
before  the  Franco-Prussian  war,  when  he  said,  '  You 
say  this  war  is  absolutely  necessary .''  very  good ;  go  to 
the  front,  then,  and  be  under  the  first  fire,  and  lead  the 
first  onslaught.'  " 

"  Good  editors  would  be  glad  to  do  that,"  said  Katava- 
sof,  with  a  loud  laugh,  and  trying  to  imagine  certain 
editorial  friends  of  his  in  this  chosen  legion. 

"  Yes  ;  but  when  they  ran  away,"  said  Dolly,  "  they  'd 
bother  the  others." 

"Just  as  soon  as  they  begin  to  run  put  a  mitrailleuse 
behind  them,  or  some  Cossacks  with  whips,"  said  the 
prince. 

"  Well,  that 's  a  joke,  but  not  a  very  good  joke  ;  excuse 
me,  prince,"  said  Sergyei  Ivanovitch. 

"  I  don't  think  it  was  a  joke,"  said  Levin  ;  "  it  was  ....  " 

But  his  brother  interrupted  him. 

"  Every  member  of  society  is  called  upon  to  do  his 
duty,"  said  he,  "  and  thoughtful  men  perform  theirs  by 
giving  expression  to  pubHc  opinion ;  and  the  unanimous 
and  full  expression  of  public  opinion  is  creditable  to  the 
press,  and  at  the  same  time  a  good  symptom.  Twenty 
years  ago  we  should  have  kept  quiet ;  to-day  we  hear 
the  voice  of  the  Russian  people,  which  is  ready  to  rise 
like  one  man,  and  ready  to  sacrifice  itself  for  its  op- 
pressed brethren.  It  is  a  great  step  taken,  —  a  proof 
of  power." 

"Yes,  not  only  to  avenge  their  brethren,  but  to  kill 
the  Turks,"  said  Levin,  timidly.  "  The  people  will 
sacrifice  itself  and  be  ready  to    sacrifice    itself  for  the 


ANNA    KARENINA  387 

salvation  of  their  souls,  but  not  for  murder,"  he  added, 
involuntarily  connecting  this  conversation  with  the 
thoughts  of  the  morning. 

•'  What  do  you  mean  by  soul  ?  That,  to  a  naturalist, 
you  must  remember,  is  a  very  puzzling  expression. 
What  is  the  soul  ? "  demanded  Katavasof,  with  a  smile. 

"  Oh,  you  know." 

"  Ton  my  word,^  I  have  n't  the  least  idea,"  and  the 
professor  broke  into  a  burst  of  laughter. 

"  Christ  said,  '  I  am  come  not  to  bring  peace,  but  a 
sword,'  "  remarked  Sergyef  Ivanovitch,  quoting  as  simply 
as  if  it  were  something  comprehensible,  a  passage  from 
the  Gospel  which  had  always  troubled  Levin. 

"That's  just  so,"  repeated  the  old  bee-keeper,  who 
had  been  standing  near  them,  in  response  to  a  chance 
look  directed  to  him. 

"  Come,  batyushka,  you  're  beaten,  you  're  beaten,  — 
wholly  beaten  !  "  cried  Katavasof,  gayly. 

Levin  reddened  with  vexation,  not  because  he  was 
beaten,  but  because  he  had  been  drawn  into  discussion 
again. 

"  No ;  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  dispute  with  them," 
he  thought ;  "  their  armor  is  impenetrable,  and  I  am 
defenseless." 

He  saw  that  he  could  not  defeat  his  brother  and  Kata- 
vasof, and  it  was  equally  impossible  to  agree  with  them. 
Their  arguments  were  the  fruit  of  that  same  pride  of  the 
intellect  which  had  almost  ruined  him.  He  could  not 
admit  that  a  handful  of  men,  his  brother  among  them, 
had  the  right,  on  the  ground  of  what  was  told  them  by 
a  few  hundred  eloquent  volunteers  who  came  to  the 
capital,  to  claim  that  they  and  the  newspapers  expressed 
the  will  and  sentiment  of  the  people,  especially  when 
this  sentiment  expressed  itself  in  vengeance  and 
butchery. 

He  could  not  agree  with  this  because  he  did  not  dis- 
cover the  expression  of  these  thoughts  among  the  peo- 
ple in  whose  midst  he  lived,  and  he  did  not  find  them  in 
himself  —  and  he  could  not  consider  himself  as  anything 

1  Foi/a  Bo^u,  literally,  "  Here  by  God." 


388  ANNA    KARENINA 

else  than  one  of  the  men  constituting  the  Russian  na- 
tion —  but  principally  because  he  did  not,  any  more  than 
the  rest  of  men,  know  —  nor  could  he  know  —  what  con- 
stituted the  general  good  ;  but  he  firmly  believed  that  the 
attainment  of  this  general  good  was  brought  about  only 
by  the  strenuous  fulfilment  of  that  law  of  right  which  is 
revealed  to  every  one,  and  therefore  he  could  not  desire 
war,  or  preach  it  as  a  means  of  attaining  any  general 
end  whatever. 

He  and  Mikhailovitch,  and  the  people  in  general,  ex- 
pressed themselves  in  somewhat  the  same  language  as 
was  used  when  the  early  Russians  invited  the  Variags 
to  come  from  Scandinavia  :  — 

"  Come  and  rule  over  us,  we  gladly  promise  absolute 
submission.  We  are  enduring  all  trials,  all  humilia- 
tions, all  sacrifices,  but  we  do  not  judge  and  we  do  not 
decide." 

And  now,  according  to  Sergyei  Ivanovitch,  the  peo- 
ple were  ready  to  turn  their  backs  on  a  right  which  they 
had  purchased  at  such  a  price ! 

He  wanted  to  say  in  addition  that  if  the  general  opin- 
ion is  an  infallible  judge,  then  why  should  not  the  Revo- 
lution, the  Commune,  be  as  useful  to  the  Slavs  as  law- 
ful means  ? 

But  all  these  were  thoughts  which  could  not  decide 
anything.  The  only  thing  that  he  could  clearly  see  was 
that  at  the  present  moment  the  discussion  was  exasper- 
ating to  Sergyei  Ivanovitch,  and  therefore  it  was  wrong 
to  discuss  it.  So  Levin  held  his  peace,  and  turned  the 
attention  of  his  guests  to  the  clouds  that  were  rolling  up, 
and  he  advised  them  to  hurry  home  if  they  did  not  want 
to  get  wet. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

The  prince  and  Sergyei  Ivanovitch  seated  themselves 
in  the  cart  and  drove  on  ;  the  rest  of  the  party,  quick- 
ening their  steps,  started  back  on  foot. 

But  the   thunder-storm,   white   on   top,  black   under- 


ANNA    KARENINA         '       389 

neath,  came  up  so  rapidly  that  they  had  to  hurry  so  as 
to  reach  the  house  before  the  rain  was  on  them.  The 
clouds  coming  on  as  the  vanguard,  hung  low,  were  as  black 
as  soot,  and  drove  across  the  sky  with  extraordinary 
rapidity.  They  had  reached  within  two  hundred  feet  of 
the  house,  and  already  the  wind  had  begun  to  rise,  and 
the  downpour  might  be  expected  at  any  second. 

The  children  ran  on  ahead  laughing  and  screaming 
with  delight  and  terror.  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  strug- 
gling with  her  skirts,  which  the  wand  blew  round  her 
legs,  no  longer  walked,  but  ran,  not  letting  the  children 
out  of  her  sight.  The  gentlemen,  holding  on  their  hats 
with  difficulty,  walked  with  long  strides.  They  had  just- 
reached  the  porch  w^hen  the  great  drops  began  to  strike 
and  splash  against  the  edge  of  the  iron  gutter.  The 
children,  and  just  behind  them  their  elders,  with  gay 
exclamations  ran  under  the  shelter  of  the  porch. 

"  Where  is  Katerina  Aleksandrovna  ? "  asked  Levin 
of  Agafya  Mikhailovna,  who  was  coming  out  of  the 
door,  loaded  with  shawls  and  plaids. 

"  We  supposed  she  was  with  you." 

"  And  Mitya  ?  " 

"  He  must  be  in  the  Kolok  woods  with  his  nurse." 

Levin  seized  the  plaids,  and  started  for  Kolok. 

In  the  few  minutes  that  had  elapsed,  the  storm  had 
reached  beyond  the  sun,  and  it  was  as  dark  as  if  there 
was  an  eclipse.  The  wind  blew  obstinately  as  if  insist- 
ing on  its  own  way,  tried  to  stop  Levin,  and,  tearing 
off  the  leaves  and  flowers  from  the  lindens,  and  rudely 
and  strangely  baring  the  white  branches  of  the  birches, 
bent  everything  to  one  side,  —  acacias,  flowers,  bur- 
docks, the  grass,  and  the  tree-tops.  The  girls  working 
in  the  garden  ran  squealing  under  the  shelter  of  the 
servants'  quarters.  The  white  screen  of  the  pouring 
rain  had  already  cut  off  the  distant  forest  and  half  of 
the  adjacent  field,  and  was  rapidly  advancing  on  Kolok. 
The  dampness  of  the  shower  was  felt  in  the  atmosphere 
like  fine  drops. 

Bending  his  head,  and  fighting  vigorously  against  the 
gale,  which  tugged  at  his  shawls,  Levin  was  already  on 


390  ANNA    KARENINA 

his  way  to  Kolok.  He  thought  he  already  saw  white 
forms  behind  a  well-known  oak,  when  suddenly  a  glare 
of  light  seemed  to  burst  from  the  ground  before  him, 
and  the  vault  of  the  sky  above  him  to  fall  with  a  crash. 
When  he  opened  his  dazzled  eyes,  he  looked  through 
the  thick  curtain  formed  by  the  rain,  which  cut  him  off 
from  the  Kolok  woods,  and  saw,  to  his  horror,  that  the 
green  top  of  a  well-known  oak  which  stood  in  the  forest 
had  strangely  changed  its  position.  Even  before  he 
could  a'sk,  "Can  the  lightning  have  struck  it.-*"  he  saw 
it  bending  over  more  and  more  rapidly,  and  then  disap- 
pearing behind  the  other  trees,  and  he  heard  the  crash 
the  great  oak  made  as  it  fell,  carrying  with  it  the  neigh- 
boring trees.  The  glare  of  the  lightning,  the  crash  of 
the  thunder,  and  the  sensation  of  chill  running  over  his 
whole  body  blended  for  Levin  in  one  impression  of 
horror. 

"My  God!  my  God!  keep  them  safe,"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

And  though  he  instantly  felt  the  absurdity  of  the 
prayer,  since  the  oak  had  already  fallen,  he  neverthe- 
less said  it  over  and  over,  for  he  knew  that,  absurd  as 
it  was,  he  could  not  do  anything  else  to  help  them. 

He  hastened  toward  the  spot  where  they  generally 
went,  but  he  did  not  find  them.  They  were  in  another 
part  of  the  woods  under  an  old  linden,  and  they  called 
to  him.  Two  figures  dressed  in  dark  clothes  —  they 
usually  wore  white  —  were  bending  over  something 
under  the  trees.  It  was  Kitty  and  the  nurse.  The 
rain  had  stopped,  and  it  was  beginning  to  grow  lighter 
when  Levin  reached  them.  The  bottom  of  the  nurse's 
dress  was  dry,  but  Kitty's  gown  was  wet  through  and 
clung  to  her.  Though  it  was  no  longer  raining,  they 
were  standing  just  as  they  had  been  when  the  shower 
began.  Both  were  leaning  over  the  baby-carriage,  with 
its  green  parasol. 

"  Alive  ?  safe }  God  be  praised  !  "  he  cried,  as,  splash- 
ing through  the  puddles,  he  ran  to  them  with  his  shoes 
full  of  water. 

Kitty's  glowing  face,  all  wet,  was  turned  to  him,  and 


ANNA    KARENINA  391 

she  smiled  timidly  from  under  her  hat,  which  had  lost 
its  shape  in  the  rain. 

"  There  now,  are  n't  you  ashamed  ?  I  can't  understand 
how  you  could  do  such  a  careless  thing,"  he  began,  in 
his  vexation  scolding  his  wife. 

"  Goodness,^  it  was  not  my  fault.  We  were  just  start- 
ing to  go  when  he  began  to  be  restless.  We  had  to 
change  him.  We  were  just ...."  Kitty  said,  trying  to 
defend  herself. 

Mitya  was  safe,  dry,  and  still  soundly  sleeping. 

"Well!  God  be  thanked!  I  don't  know  what  I'm 
saying." 

They  hastily  picked  up  the  wet  diapers,  the  nurse  took 
the  baby,  and  Levin,  ashamed  of  his  vexation,  gave  his 
arm  to  his  wife,  and  led  her  away,  pressing  her  hand 
gently. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

In  the  course  of  all  that  day,  during  the  most  varied 
conversations  in  which  Levin  took  part,  as  it  were,  only 
with  the  external  side  of  his  mind,  and  notwithstanding 
his  disillusion  at  finding  that  the  moral  regeneration  had 
not  taken  place  in  his  nature  after  all,  he  did  not  cease 
to  be  pleasantly  conscious  that  his  heart  was  full. 

After  the  shower,  it  was  too  wet  to  go  out  for  a  walk, 
and,  moreover,  other  threatening  clouds  were  piling  up 
on  the  horizon,  and  here  and  there  reaching  up  high  into 
the  sky,  black,  and  laden  with  thunder.  All  the  house- 
hold spent  the  rest  of  the  day  within  doors. 

Discussions  were  avoided,  and  after  dinner  all  were  in 
the  gayest  frame  of  mind. 

Katavasof  at  first  kept  the  ladies  laughing  by  his 
original  turns  of  wit,  which  always  pleased  people  when 
they  made  his  acquaintance  ;  then  afterward  being  drawn 
out  by  Sergyei"  Ivanovitch,  he  related  his  very  interesting 
observations  on  the  different  characteristics  and  features 
of  male  and  female  flies,  and  their  habits. 

1  Ve'i  Bogu. 


392  ANNA    KARENINA 

Sergyei  Ivanovitch  also  was  very  gay ;  and  at  tea  he 
explained  the  future  of  the  Eastern  question  so  simply 
and  well  that  all  could  follow  him.  Kitty  alone  did  not 
hear  him.  She  had  been  summoned  to  the  nursery  to 
give  Mitya  his  bath. 

A  few  moments  after  Kitty  had  left  the  room,  Levin 
also  was  called  to  follow  her. 

Leaving  his  tea,  and  feeling  regretful  at  having  an 
interesting  conversation  interrupted,  and  at  the  same 
time  troubled  because  they  had  called  him  to  the  nur- 
sery, a  thing  which  had  hitherto  happened  only  in  cases 
of  emergency,  Levin  followed  his  wife. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  was  greatly  interested  in 
his  brother's  partly  outlined  scheme  of  making  the 
newly  enfranchised  world  of  forty  millions  of  Slavs  join 
with  Russia  in  establishing  a  new  epoch  in  history  —  for 
it  was  something  entirely  novel  to  him,  in  spite  of  his 
curiosity  and  anxiety  at  having  been  summoned  to  the 
nursery,  as  soon  as  he  had  left  the  drawing-room  and 
was  once  more  alone,  he  immediately  remembered  his 
thoughts  of  the  morning.  And  all  these  theories  as  to 
the  significance  of  the  Slav  element  in  the  universal  his- 
tory seemed  to  him  so  insignificant  in  comparison  with 
what  was  taking  place  in  his  own  soul,  that  for  a  mo- 
ment he  forgot  all  about  it,  and  returned  to  the  moral 
state  that  had  so  delighted  him  at  the  beginning  of  the 
day. 

This  time  he  did  not  wholly  retrace  the  course  of 
thought  which  had  led  him  to  this  state  of  mind,  nor 
was  it  necessary.  He  was  borne  immediately  back  to 
that  feeling  which  had  guided  him,  which  had  been  con- 
nected with  those  thoughts,  and  he  now  found  the  feel- 
ing stronger  and  more  definite  in  his  soul  than  ever  be- 
fore. Now  there  was  no  longer  what  had  always  marked 
his  previous  imaginary  attempts  at  gaining  spiritual 
calmness,  when  he  had  been  obhged  to  call  a  halt  to  the 
whole  course  of  his  thoughts  in  order  to  find  the  feel- 
ing ;  now,  on  the  contrary,  the  feeling  of  joy  and  calm- 
ness was  more  vivid  than  before,  but  thought  did  not 
overtake  the  feeling.     He  walked  along  the  terrace,  and 


.  ANNA    KARENINA  393 

saw  two  stars  glowing  in  the  already  darkening  sky,  and 
suddenly  he  remembered  a  course  of  reasoning  :  — 

"Yes,"  said  he  to  himself,  "as  I  looked  at  the  heav- 
ens I  thought  that  the  vault  which  I  gaze  at  is  not  a  lie. 
But  there  was  the  something  that  remained  half  thought 
out  in  my  mind,  —  something  that  I  hid  from  myself. 
Now,  what  was  it  .**  There  cannot  be  an  answer.  If 
one  could  think  it  out,  all  things  would  be  explained." 

.Just  as  he  entered  the  child's  chamber,  he  remem- 
bered what  it  was  that  he  hid  from  himself.  It  was 
this:  — 

"  If  the  chief  proof  of  the  existence  of  God  lies  in 
the  revelation  of  good,  why  should  this  revelation  be 
limited  to  the  Christian  Church  ?  How  about  those 
millions  of  Buddhists  and  Mohammedans,  who  are  also 
seeking  for  the  truth  and  doing  right .'' " 

It  seemed  to  him  that  there  must  be  an  answer  to 
this  question,  but  he  could  not  find  and  express  it  before 
entering  the  room. 

Kitty,  with  her  sleeves  rolled  up,  was  bending  over 
the  bath-tub,  in  which  she  was  washing  the  baby.  As 
she  heard  her  husband's  steps,  she  turned  her  face  to 
him,  and  with  a"  smile  called  him  to  her.  With  one 
hand  she  was  supporting  the  head  of  the  plump  little 
fellow,  who  was  floating  on  his  back  in  the  water  and 
kicking  with  his  legs  ;  with  the  other  she  was  squeezing 
the  sponge  on  him. 

"  Come  here  !  look,  look !  "  said  she,  as  her  husband 
came  up  to  her.  "  Agafya  Mikhai'lovna  is  right ;  he 
knows  us." 

The  fact  was  that  Mitya  to-day  for  the  first  time  gave 
indubitable  proof  that  he  knew  his  friends. 

As  soon  as  Levin  went  to  the  bath-tub,  the  experi- 
ment was  tried,  and  it  was  wholly  successful.  A  cook, 
who  was  called  for  the  purpose,  bent  over  the  tub.  The 
baby  frowned  and  shook  his  head.  Kitty  bent  over  him, 
and  he  smiled  radiantly,  and  clung  with  his  little  hands 
to  the  sponge  and  sucked  with  his  lips,  producing  such 
a  strange  and  contented  sound  that  not  only  the  mother 
and  the  nurse,  but  Levin  himself,  were  enchanted 


394  ANNA    KARENINA 

They  took  the  baby  from  the  water,  wiped  him,  and, 
after  he  had  expressed  his  disapprobation  with  a  pierc- 
ing scream,  they  gave  him  to  his  mother. 

"Well,  I  am  very  glad  to  see  that  you  begin  to  love 
him,"  said  Kitty,  as  she  sat  down  in  a  comfortable  seat, 
with  the  child  at  her  breast.  "  I  am  very  glad.  It 
really  troubled  me  when  you  said  you  had  n't  any  feel- 
ing for  him." 

"  No !  did  I  say  that  I  had  no  feeling  for  him  ?  I 
only  said  that  I  was  disappointed." 

"  How  were  you  disappointed  .''  " 

"  I  was  n't  disappointed  in  him,  but  in  the  feeling 
that  he  would  arouse.  I  expected  more.  I  expected  as 
a  surprise  some  new  and  pleasant  feeling ;  and  instead 
of  that,  it  was  pity,  disgust." 

She  listened  to  him  as  she  put  on  her  slender  fingers 
the  rings  which  she  had  taken  off  while  bathing  the 
baby. 

"And  more  of  fear  and  pity  than  of  satisfaction.  I 
never  knew  until  to-day,  after  the  storm,  how  I  loved 
him." 

Kitty  smiled  with  radiant  joy. 

"Were  you  very  much  af  raid  .-* "  she  asked.  "And 
so  was  I.  But  it  seems  more  terrible  to  me  now  when 
the  danger  is  all  past.  I  shall  go  and  look  at  the 
oak  to-morrow.  How  nice  Katavasof  is  !  Well,  the 
whole  day  has  been  so  pleasant.      You  are  so  delightful 

with  your  brother  when  you  want  to  be Well,  go  to 

them.  It  is  always  hot  and  stifling  here  after  the 
bath." 


CHAPTER   XIX 

^  Levin,  on  leaving  the  nursery  and  finding  himself 
alone,  began  to  follow  out  his  line  of  thought,  in  which 
there  had  been  something  obscure. 

Instead  of  going  back  to  the  drawing-room,  where  he 
heard  the  sound  of  voices,  he  remained  on  the  terrace, 
and,  leaning  over  the  balustrade  of  the  terrace,  he  looked 


ANNA    KARENINA  395 

at  the  sky.  It  had  grown  very  dark,  and  there  was  not 
a  cloud  in  the  south  where  he  was  looking.  The  clouds 
were  all  in  the  opposite  quarter.  From  time  to  time  it 
would  lighten,  and  the  distant  thunder  would  be  heard. 
Levin  listened  to  the  drops  of  rain  falling  rhythmically 
from  the  lindens,  and  looked  at  the  stars  and  then  at  the 
Milky  Way.  Whenever  the  lightning  flashed,  then  not 
only  the  Milky  Way  but  also  the  bright  stars  would  dis- 
appear from  his  vision ;  but  by  the  time  the  thunder 
sounded  they  would  reappear  in  their  places  as  if  a 
careful  hand  had  readjusted  them  in  the  firmament. 

"Well,  now  what  is  it  that  troubles  me.?"  Levin 
asked  himself,  already  beginning  to  feel  that  a  resolu- 
tion of  his  doubts,  though  it  had  not  yet  become  a' 
matter  of  knowledge,  was  ready  in  his  soul. 

"  Yes,  there  is  one  evident,  indubitable  manifestation 
of  the  Divinity,  and  that  is  the  laws  of  right  which  are 
made  known  to  the  world  through  Revelation,  and  of 
which  I  am  conscious  as  existing  in  myself,  and  in  the 
recognition  of  them  I  am  in  spite  of  myself,  wiUingly 
or  unwillingly,  united  with  other  men  into  one  brother- 
hood of  believers,  which  is  called  the  Church. 

"  Yes ;  but  are  Hebrews,  Confucians,  Mohammedans, 
Buddhists,  in  the  same  relation  ? "  he  asked  himself,  re- 
curring to  the  dilemma  which  had  seemed  so  portentous 
to  him.  "Can  these  hundreds  of  millions  of  men  be 
deprived  of  the  greatest  of  blessings,  of  that  which 
alone  gives  a  meaning  to  life  ? " 

He  paused,  but  immediately  recovered  his  train  of 
thought. 

"What  am  I  asking  myself.-* 

"  I  am  questioning  the  relation  of  the  various  forms 
of  human  belief  to  Divinity.  I  am  questioning  the  rela- 
tion of  God  to  the  whole  universe,  with  all  its  nebulae. 
But  what  am  I  doing  ?  And  at  the  moment  when 
knowledge,  sure,  though  inaccessible  to  reason,  is  re- 
vealed to  me,  shall  I  still  persist  in  dragging  in 
logic } 

"  Do  I  not  know  that  the  stars  do  not  move  ?  "  said  he, 
noticing  the  change  that  had  taken  place  in  the  position 


396 


ANNA    KARENINA 


of  the  brilliant  planet  which  he  had  seen  rising  over  the 
birches;  "but,  seeing  the. stars  change  place,  and  not 
being  able  to  imagine  the  revolution  of  the  earth,  then 
I  should  be  right  in  saying  that  they  moved.  Could 
the  astronomers  have  made  any  calculations,  and  gained 
any  knowledge,  if  they  had  taken  into  consideration  the 
varied  and  complicated  motions  of  the  earth  ?  Have 
not  their  marvelous  conclusions  as  to  the  distances,  the 
weight,  the  motions,  and  revolutions  of  the  celestial 
bodies  all  been  based  on  the  apparent  movements  of 
the  stars  around  a  motionless  earth,  —  these  very  move- 
ments which  I  now  witness,  as  millions  of  men  for 
centuries  have  witnessed  them,  and  which  can  always 
be  verified  ?  And  just  as  the  conclusions  of  the  astrono- 
mers would  have  been  inaccurate  and  false  if  they  had 
not  been  based  on  their  observations  of  the  heavens 
such  as  they  appeared  relatively  to  a  single  meridian 
and  a  single  horizon,  so  all  my  conclusions  as  to  the 
knowledge  of  good  and  evil  would  be  inaccurate  and 
false  if  they  were  not  founded  on  that  comprehension 
of  good  and  evil  which  for  all  men  always  has  been  and 
always  will  be  one  and  the  same,  and  which  Christianity 
has  revealed  to  me  and  which  my  soul  can  always  verify. 
The  relations  of  human  belief  to  God  must,  for  me,  re- 
main unfathomable ;  to  search  them  out  belongs  not 
to  me." 

"  Have  n't  you  gone  in  yet  .■* "  said  Kitty's  voice,  sud- 
denly. She  was  on  her  way  to  the  drawing-room  by 
the  way  of  the  terrace.  "  There  's  nothing  that  troubles 
you,  is  there.-*"  asked  she,  looking  wistfully  up  into  her 
husband's  face  and  trying  to  study  its  expression  by  the 
starlight.  By  the  light  of  a  flash  of  lightning  on  the 
horizon,  she  saw  that  he  was  calm  and  happy,  and  she 
smiled. 

"  She  understands  me,"  thought  he.  "  She  knows 
what  I  am  thinking.  Shall  I  tell  her,  or  not  ?  Yes,  I 
will  tell  her." 

But  just  as  he  was  about  to  speak,  Kitty  broke  in. 

"  Kostia,"  said  she,  "  do  be  so  kind  and  go  to  the  cor- 
ner room  and  see  how  they  have  arranged  for  Sergyeif 


ANNA    KARENINA  397 

Ivanovitch.     I  don't  like  to.     See  if  they  put  in  the  new 
washstand  properly." 

"  Certainly,  I  '11  go,"  answered  Levin,  rising,  and  kiss- 
ing her. 

"  No;  better  be  silent,"  thought  he,  as  she  went  past; 
"  this  secret  has  no  importance  save  for  me  alone,  and 
words  could  not  explain  it.  This  new  feeling  has  neither 
changed  me  nor  suddenly  enlightened  me  nor  made  me 
happy,  as  I  imagined  it  would.  It  is  just  like  my  feel- 
ing for  my  son.  There  is  no  element  of  surprise  in  it. 
But  it  is  faith  ....  no,  not  faith....  I  know  not  what  it  is. 
But  the  feeling  stole  into  my  soul  through  suffering,  and 
there  it  is  firmly  established. 

"I  shall  continue  to  be  vexed  with  Ivan  the  coach-' 
man,  and  get  into  useless  discussions,  and  express 
my  thoughts  blunderingly.  I  shall  always  be  blaming 
my  wife  for  what  annoys  me,  and  repenting  at  once.  I 
shall  always  feel  a  certain  barrier  between  the  Holy  of 
Holies  of  my  inmost  soul,  and  the  souls  of  others,  even 
my  wife's.  I  shall  continue  to  pray  without  being  able 
to  explain  to  myself  why.  But  my  whole  life,  every 
moment  of  my  life,  independently  of  whatever  may 
happen  to  me,  will  be,  not  meaningless  as  before,  but 
full  of  the  deep  meaning  which  I  shall  have  the  power 
to  impress  upon  it." 


THB  END 


Count  L.  N.  Tolstoi. 

From  a  daguerreotype,  1848. 


CHILDHOOD,    BOYHOOD 
YOUTH 


Copyright,  1899, 
Bv  THOMAS  Y.   CROWELL  &  CO. 


PREFACE 

COUNT  TOLSTOI  is  unquestionably  one  of  the 
most  interesting  personalities  of  the  period.  Any- 
thing, therefore,  which  can  add  to  our  knowledge  of 
him  as  a  man,  cannot  fail  to  be  welcome  to  those  who 
have  already  made  his  acquaintance  through  his  writ- 
ings on  religion,  and  through  those  characters  in  his 
novels  which  reflect  himself.  These  Memoirs,  which 
in  the  Russian  bear  no  common  title,  are  of  particular 
interest,  since  they  show  that  many  of  the  author's  ideas 
of  thirty  years  ago  were  precisely  similar  to  those  which 
he  is  putting  in  practice  to-day  in  his  own  person. 
There  are  also  points  which  every  one  will  recognize  as 
having  been  true  of  himself  at  the  ages  herein  dealt 
with.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  original  plan  has 
not  been  carried  out.  This  comprised  a  great  novel, 
founded  on  the  reminiscences  and  traditions  of  his 
family.  The  first  instalment,  "  Childhood,"  was  writ- 
ten while  he  was  in  the  Caucasus,  and  published  in 
1852  in  the  Contemporary  (^Sovreviennik).  The  last, 
"Youth,"  was  written  after  the  conclusion  of  the  Cri- 
mean War,  in  1855,  "Boyhood"  having  preceded  it. 
"Childhood"  was  one  of  the  first  things  he  wrote;  his 
"  Cossacks,"  which  Turgeneff  admired  extremely,  hav- 
ing been  written  about  the  same  time,  though  it  was 
not  printed  until  long  afterward.  The  most  important 
of  his  other  writings  are  already  before  the  public. 

That  the  Memoirs  reflect  the  man,  and  his  mental 
and  moral  youth,  there  can  be  no  doubt,  and  the  char- 
acters depicted  are  founded  upon  real  persons,  as,  for 
instance,  Karl  Ivanitch,  whose  grave  is  not  far  from 
Yasnaya  Polyana ;  but  they  do  not  strictly  conform  to 
facts  in  other  respects,  and  therefore  merit  the  titles 
which  he  gave  them,  "  Novels." 

THE  TRANSLATOR. 


CONTENTS 


CHILDHOOD 

CRAPTKR  PAGC 

I.    The  Tutor,  Karl  Ivanitch i 

II.     Mamma 7 

III.  Papa 9 

IV.  Lessons .  14 

V.    The  Fool 17 

VI.     Preparations  for  the  Hunt 22 

VII.     The  Hunt 24 

VIII.     Games 29 

IX.  Something  in  the  Nature  of  First  Love     ....  31 

X.  What  Kind  of  a  Man  my  Father  was         ....  32 

XI.  Occupations  in  the  Study  and  the  Drawing-room      .         .  35 

XII.     Grischa 38 

XIII.  Natalya  Savischna 41 

XIV.  Parting 45 

XV.     Childhood 50 

XVI.     Verses 53 

XVII.  Princess  Kornakoff  ........  59 

XVIII.  Prince  Ivan  Ivanitch         .......  63 

XIX.     The  Ivins 67 

XX.  The  Guests  assemble        .        .        .        .        .        .        •74 

XXI.     Before  the  Mazurka 79 

XXII.     The  Mazurka 83 

XXIII.  After  the  Mazurka 85 

XXIV.  In  Bed 89 

XXV.    The  Letter 91 

vii 


Vlll 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTBIt 

XXVI.  What  awaited  us  in  the  Country 

XXVII.  Sorrow 

XXVIII.  The  Last  Sad  Memories  . 


PAcr 
96 

99 
104 


BOYHOOD 

i.  A  Journey  without  Relays         .        .        .        •        •        'US 

II.  The  Thunder-storm           ...••••  122 

III.  A  New  View 127 

IV.  In  Moscow       ......••.  131 

V.  The  Elder  Brother 132 

VI.  Mascha 135 

\ril.  Shot 137 

VIII.  Karl  Ivanitch's  History 141 

IX.  Continuation  of  the  Preceding 144 

X.  Continuation •        .        .  147 

XI.  One 150 

XII.  The  Little  Key 155 

XIII.  The  Traitress 157 

XIV.  The  Eclipse 159 

XV.  Fancies 161 

XVI.  Grind  Long  Enough  and  the  Meal  will  come  .        .        .165 

XVII.  Hatred .170 

XVIII.  The  Maids' Room 172 

XIX.  Boyhood 177 

XX.  Volodya 181 

XXI.  Katenka  and  Liubotchka 184 

XXII.  Papa 185 

XXIII.  Grandmamma  .        .        .        •        •        •        •        •        .188 

XXIV.  I 191 

XXV.  Volodya's  Friends 192 

XXVI.  Discussions 194 

XXVII.  The  Beginning  of  Friendship  .,.••.  198 


CONTENTS 


IX 


YOUTH 

HAPTRR  PAGB 

I.  What  I  consider  the  Beginning  of  Youth          .        .        .  203 

II.     Spring 204 

III.  Reveries 208 

IV.  Our  Family  Circle ,         ,211 

V.     Rules 215 

VI.     Confession         .         .         .        , 217 

VIT.    The  Trip  t(^  the  Monastery 219 

S^III.    A  Second  Confession ,        .  222 

IX.  How  I  prepare  for  Examination        .....  225 

X.  The  Examination  in  History     .         .         ,        ..        ,         .  227 

XI.     The  Examination  in  Mathematics 232 

XII.     The  Latin  Examination 236 

Kill.  I  am  grown  up         ........  239 

XIV,  How  Volodya  and  Duljkoff  occupied  themselves      .        .  244 

XV.  I  receive  Congratulations          ......  248 

XVI,     The  Quarrel 252 

XVII.  I  make  Preparations  to  pay  some  Calls     .        .        „        -257 

KVIII,    TheValakhins ,        .  260 

XIX.     The  Kornakoffs 265 

XX.     The  Ivins 268 

XXI.     Prince  Ivan  Ivanitch 272 

XXII.  An  Intimate  Conversation  with  my  Friend        ,        .        .  275 

XXIII.     The  Nekhliudoffs 280 

XXIV.     Love 285 

XXV.     I  become  acquainted 2S9 

XXVI.  I  show   myself  from   the  most  Advantageous  Point  of 

View    ..........  294 

XXVII.     Dmitry .         .         .  298 

>CXVIII,     In  the  Country 303 

XXIX.     Our  Relations  to  the  Girls 307 

XXX.     My  Occupations 312 

XXXI.  Comme  il  faut          .*••#•»«  316 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGB 

XXXII.  Youth 319 

XXXIII.  Neighbors 325 

XXXIV.  Father's  Marriage 330 

XXXV.  How  we  received  the  News  ..,,,.  333 

XXXVI.  The  University 338 

XXXVII.  Affairs  of  the  Heart 343 

XXXVIII.  The  World 346 

XXXIX.  The  Carouse 348 

XL.  Friendship  with  the  Nekhliudoffs            .         ,         .         .  353 

XLI.  Friendship  with  the  Nekhliudoffs  {continued)       ,         ,  357 

XLII.  The  Stepmother 361 

XLIII.  New  Comrades 367 

XLIV.  Zukhin  and  Semenoff ,        „  374 

XLV.  I  make  a  Failure   ...••«.        r  376 


CHILDHOOD 

CHAPTER   I 

THE    TUTOR    KARL    IVANITCH 

ON  the  1 2th  of  August,  i8 — ,  the  third  day  after  my 
birthday,  when  I  had  attained  the  age  of  ten, 
and  had  received  such  wonderful  presents,  Karl  Ivanitch 
woke  me  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  by  striking  at  a 
fly  directly  above  my  head,  with  a  flapper  made  of  sugar- 
paper  and  fastened  to  a  stick.  He  did  it  so  awkwardly 
that  he  entangled  the  image  of  my  angel,  which  hung 
upon  the  oaken  headboard  of  the  bed ;  and  the  dead  fly 
fell  straight  upon  my  head.  I  thrust  my  nose  out  from 
under  the  coverlet,  stopped  the  image,  which  was  still 
rocking,  with  my  hand,  flung  the  dead  fly  on  the  floor, 
and  regarded  Karl  Ivanitch  with  angry  although  sleepy 
eyes.  But  attired  in  his  motley  wadded  dressing-gown, 
girded  with  a  belt  of  the  same  material,  a  red  knitted 
skullcap  with  a  tassel,  and  soft  goatskin  shoes,  he  pur- 
sued his  course  along  the  walls,  taking  aim  and  flapping 
away. 

"Suppose  I  am  little,"  I  thought,  "why  should  he 
worry  me  ?  Why  does  n't  he  kill  the  flies  around  Volo- 
dya's  bed  .''  There  are  quantities  of  them  there.  No ; 
Volodya  is  older  than  I ;  I  am  the  youngest  of  all,  and 
that  is  why  he  torments  me.  He  thinks  of  nothing  else 
in  life,"  I  whispered,  "  except  how  he  may  do  unpleas- 
ant things  to  me.  He  knows  well  enough  that  he  has 
waked  me  up  and  frightened  me ;  but  he  pretends  not 
to  see  it,  —  the  hateful  man  !  And  his  dressing-gown, 
and  his  cap,  and  his  tassel  —  how  disgusting!" 

I 


2  CHILDHOOD 

As  I  was  thus  mentally  cxj)i'cssing  my  vexation  with 
Karl  Ivanitch,  he  approached  his  own  bed,  glanced  at 
the  watch  which  hung  above  it  in  a  slipper  embroidered 
with  glass  beads,  hung  his  flapper  on  a  nail,  and  turned 
toward  us,  evidently  in  the  most  agreeable  frame  of 
mind. 

"  Get  up,  children,  get  up.  It 's  time  !  Your  mother 
is  already  in  the  hall !  "  ^  he  cried  in  his  kindly  German 
voice ;  then  he  came  over  to  me,  sat  down  at  my  feet, 
and  pulled  his  snuff-box  from  his  pocket.  I  jiretended 
to  be  asleep.  First  Karl  Ivanitch  took  a  pinch  of  snuff, 
wiped  his  nose,  cracked  his  fingers,  and  then  turned  his 
attention  to  me.  He  began  to  tickle  my  heels,  laughing 
the  while.     "  Come,  come,  lazybones,"  he  said. 

Much  as  I  dreaded  tickling,  I  neither  sprang  out  of 
bed  nor  made  any  reply,  but  buried  my  head  deeper 
under  the  pillow,  kicked  with  all  my  might,  and  used 
every  effort  to  keep  from  laughing. 

"  How  good  he  is,  and  how  he  loves  us,  and  yet  I 
could  think  so  badly  of  him  !  " 

I  was  vexed  at  myself  and  at  Karl  Ivanitch;  I  wanted 
to  laugli  and  to  cry';  my  nerves  were  upset. 

"Oh,  let  me  alone,  Karl  Ivanitch!"!  cried,  with 
tears  in  my  eyes,  thrusting  my  head  out  from  beneath 
the  pillows.  Karl  Ivanitch  was  surprised  ;  he  left  my 
soles  in  peace,  and  began  anxiously  to  inquire  what  was 
the  matter  with  me :  had  I  had  a  bad  dream  ?  His 
kind  German  face,  the  sympathy  with  which  he  strove 
to  divine  the  cause  of  my  tears,  caused  them  to  flow 
more  abundantly.  I  was  ashamed ;  and  I  could  not 
understand  how,  a  moment  before,  I  had  been  unable 
to  love  Karl  Ivanitch,  and  had  tliought  his  dressing- 
gown,  cap,  and  tassel  disgusting ;  now,  on  the  contrary, 
they  all  seemed  to  me  extremely  pleasing,  and  even  the 
tassel  appeared  a  plain  proof  of  his  goodness.  I  told 
him  that  I  was  crying  because  I  had  had  a  bad  dream, 

^  Karl  Ivanitch  generally  speaks  in  (Icrman.  — -The  "  hall  "  in  Russian 
houses  is  an  apartment  which  serves  for  many  purposes :  as  ball-room, 
music-room,  and  i)lay-room  for  the  children  in  liad  weather.  At  Yasnya 
Polyaiia  it  serves  also  as  the  dining-room. — Tk, 


CHILDHOOD  3 

-  I  thought  mamma  was  dead,  and  they  were  carrying 
Tier  away  to  bury  her.  I  invented  all  this,  for  I  really 
did  not  know  what  I  had  been  dreaming  that  night; 
but  when  Karl  Ivanitch,  touched  by  my  tale,  began  to 
comfort  and  soothe  me,  it  seemed  to  mc  that  I  actually 
had  seen  that  dreadful  vision,  and  my  tears  flowed  from 
another  cause. 

When  Karl  Ivanitch  left  me,  and,  sitting  up  in  bed, 
I  began  to  draw  my  stockings  upon  my  little  legs,  my 
tears  ceased  in  some  measure ;  but  gloomy  thoughts 
of  the  fictitious  dream  did  not  leave  me.  Dyadka  ' 
Nikolai  came  in,  —  a  small,  neat  little  man,  who  was 
always  serious,  precise,  and  respectful,  and  a  great 
friend  of  Karl  Ivanitch.  lie  brought  our  clothes  and' 
shoes  ;  Volodya  had  boots,  but  I  still  had  those  intoler- 
able slippers  with  ribbons.  I  was  ashamed  to  cry 
before  him ;  besides,  the  morning  sun  was  shining 
cheerfully  in  at  the  window,  and  Volodya  was  imitating 
Marya  Ivanovna  (my  sister's  governess),  and  laughing 
so  loudly  and  merrily  as  he  stood  over  the  wash-basin, 
that  even  grave  Nikolai,  with  towel  on  shoulder,  the 
soap  in  one  hand  and  the  hand-basin  in  the  other, 
smiled  and  said  :  — 

"  Enough,  Vladiniir  Petrovitchj  please  wash  yourself." 
I  became  c|uite  cheerful. 

"  Are  you  nearly  ready  ?  "  called  Karl  Ivanitch's  voice 
from  the  school-room. 

His  voice  was  stern,  and  had  no  longer  that  kindly 
accent  which  had  moved  me  to  tears.  In  the  school- 
room Karl  Ivanitch  was  another  man  :  he  was  the  tutor. 
I  dressed  quickly,  washed,  and,  with  brush  in  hand,  still 
smoothing  my  wet  hair,  I  appeared  at  his  call. 

Karl  Ivanitch,  with  spectacles  on  nose,  and  a  book  in 
[lis  hand,  was  sitting  in  his  usual  place,  between  the 
door  and  the  window.  To  the  left  of  the  door  were  two 
shelves  of  books:  one  was  ours — the  children's;  the 
other  was  Karl  Ivanitch's  particular  property.  On  ours 
were  all  sorts  of  books,  —  school-books  and  others ; 
some  stood  upright,   others  were  lying   down.       Only 

^  Children's  valet. 


4  CHILDHOOD 

two  big  volumes  of  "  Histoire  des  Voyages,"  in  red 
bindings,  leaned  in  a  stately  way  against  the  wall ;  then 
came  long,  thick,  big,  and  little  books, — covers  without 
books,  and  books  without  covers.  All  were  piled  up 
and  pushed  in  when  we  were  ordered  to  put  the  library, 
as  Karl  Ivanitch  loudly  called  this  shelf,  in  order  before 
our  play-hour.  If  the  collection  of  books  on  his  private 
shelf  was  not  as  large  as  ours,  it  was  even  more  miscel- 
laneous. I  remember  three  of  them,  —  a  German  pam- 
phlet on  the  manuring  of  cabbage-gardens,  without  a 
cover ;  one  volume  of  the  history  of  the  "  Seven  Years' 
War,"  in  parchment,  burned  on  one  corner;  and  a  com- 
plete course  of  hydrostatics.  Karl  Ivanitch  passed  the 
greater  part  of  his  time  in  reading,  and  even  injured  his 
eyesight  thereby  ;  but  he  never  read  anything  except 
these  books  and  "The  Northern  Bee." 

Among  the  articles  which  lay  on  Karl  Ivanitch's  shelf, 
was  one  which  recalls  him  to  me  more  than  all  the  rest. 
It  was  a  circle  of  cardboard  fixed  on  a  wooden  foot, 
upon  which  it  revolved  by  means  of  pegs.  Upon  this 
circle  was  pasted  a  picture  representing  caricatures  of 
some  lady  and  a  wig-maker.  Karl  Ivanitch  pasted  very 
well,  and  had  himself  invented  and  manufactured  this 
circle  in  order  to  protect  his  weak  eyes  from  the  bright 
light. 

I  seem  now  to  see  before  me  his  long  figure,  in  its 
wadded  dressing-gown,  and  the  red  cap  beneath  which 
his  thin  gray  hair  is  visible.  He  sits  beside  a  little  table, 
upon  which  stands  the  circle  with  the  wig-maker,  casting 
its  shadow  upon  his  face ;  in  one  hand  he  holds  a  book, 
the  other  rests  on  the  arm  of  the  chair ;  beside  him  lies 
his  watch,  with  the  huntsman  painted  on  the  face,  his 
checked  handkerchief,  his  round  black  snuff-box,  his 
green  spectacle-case,  and  the  snuffers  on  the  tray.  All 
these  lie  with  so  much  dignity  and  precision,  each  in  its 
proper  place,  that  one  might  conclude  from  this  orderli- 
ness alone  that  Karl  Ivanitch  has  a  pure  conscience 
and  a  restful  spirit. 

If  you  stole  up-stairs  on  tiptoe  to  the  school-room,  after 
running  about  down-stairs  in  the  hall  as  much  as  you 


CHILDHOOD  5 

pleased,  behold  —  Karl  Ivanitch  was  sitting  alone  in  his 
arm-chair,  reading  some  one  of  his  beloved  books,  with 
a  proud,  calm  expression  of  countenance.  Sometimes 
I  found  him  at  such  times  when  he  was  not  reading : 
his  spectacles  had  dropped  down  on  his  big  aquiline 
nose ;  his  blue,  half-shut  eyes  had  a  certain  peculiar 
expression ;  and  his  lips  smiled  sadly.  All  was  quiet 
in  the  room ;  his  even  breathing,  and  the  ticking  of  the 
hunter-adorned  watch,  alone  were  audible. 

He  did  not  perceive  me;  and  I  used  to  stand  in  the 
door,  and  think  :  "  Poor,  poor  old  man  !  There  are  many 
of  us ;  we  play,  we  are  merry ;  but  he  —  he  is  all  alone, 
and  no  one  treats  him  kindly.  He  tells  the  truth,  when- 
he  says  he  is  an  orphan.  And  the  history  of  his  life  is 
terrible !  I  remember  that  he  related  it  to  Nikolai ;  it 
is  dreadful  to  be  in  his  situation !"  And  it  made  one  so 
sorry,  that  one  wanted  to  go  to  him,  take  his  hand,  and 
say,  "  Dear  Karl  Ivanitch  !  "  He  liked  to  have  me  say 
that ;  he  always  petted  me,  and  it  was  plain  that  he  was 
touched. 

On  the  other  wall  hung  maps,  nearly  all  of  them  torn, 
but  skilfully  repaired  by  the  hand  of  Karl  Ivanitch.  On 
the  third  wall,  in  the  middle  of  which  was  the  door  lead- 
ing down-stairs,  hung  two  rulers  :  one  was  all  hacked  up 
—  that  was  ours;  the  other  —  the  new  one  —  was  his 
own  private  ruler,  and  employed  more  for  encouraging 
us  than  for  ruling  proper.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
door  was  a  blackboard,  upon  which  our  grand  misdeeds 
were  designated  by  circles,  and  our  small  ones  by  crosses. 
To  the  left  of  the  board  was  the  corner  where  we  were 
put  on  our  knees. 

How  well  I  remember  that  corner !  I  remember  the 
grated  stove-door,  and  the  slide  in  it,  and  the  noise  this 
made  when  it  was  turned.  Vou  would  kneel  and  kneel 
in  that  corner  until  your  knees  and  back  ached,  and 
you  would  think,  "  Karl  Ivanitch  has  forgotten  me ;  he 
must  be  sitting  quietly  in  his  soft  arm-chair,  and  read- 
ing his  hydrostatics :  and  how  is  it  with  me  ? "  And 
then  you  would  begin  to  hint  of  y^  existence,  to  softly 
open  and  shut  the  heat-damper,  or  pick  the  plaster  from 


6  CHILDHOOD 

the  wall ;  but  if  too  big  a  piece  suddenly  fell  noisily 
to  the  floor,  the  fright  alone  was  worse  than  the  whole 
punishment.  You  would  peep  round  at  Karl  Ivanitch ; 
and  there  he  sat,  book  in  hand,  as  though  he  had  not 
noticed  anything. 

In  the  middle  of  the  room  stood  a  table,  covered 
with  a  ragged  black  oil-cloth,  beneath  which  the  edge, 
hacked  in  places  with  penknives,  was  visible  in  many 
places.  Around  the  table  stood  several  unpainted 
stools,  polished  with  long  use.  The  last  wall  was  oc- 
cupied by  three  little  windows.  This  was  the  view 
which  was  had  from  them :  Directly  in  front  of  the  win- 
dows ran  the  road,  every  hollow,  pebble,  and  rut  of 
which  had  long  been  familiar  and  dear  to  me  ;  beyond 
the  road  was  a  close-trimmed  linden  alley,  behind  which 
the  wattled  fence  was  visible  here  and  there.  A  field 
could  be  seen  through  the  alley;  on  one  side  of  this  was 
a  threshing-floor,  on  the  other  a  forest ;  the  guard's 
little  cottage  was  visible  far  away  in  the  forest.  To 
the  right,  a  part  of  the  terrace  could  be  seen,  upon 
which  the  grown-up  people  generally  sat  before  dinner. 
If  you  looked  in  that  direction  while  Karl  Ivanitch  was 
correcting  your  page  of  dictation,  you  could  see  mam- 
ma's black  hair,  and  some  one's  back,  and  hear  faint 
sounds  of  conversation  and  laughter ;  and  you  would 
grow  vexed  that  you  could  not  be  there,  and  think, 
"  When  I  grow  up,  shall  I  stop  learning  lessons,  and 
sit,  not  over  conversations  .forever,  but  always  with 
those  I  love  ?  "  Vexation  changes  to  sorrow  ;  and  God 
knows  why  and  what  you  dream,  until  \ou  hear  Karl 
Ivanitch  raging  over  your  mistakes. 

Karl  Ivanitch  took  off  his  dressing-gown,  put  on  his 
lilue  swallow-tailed  coat  with  humps  and  folds  upon  the 
shoulders,  an"anged  his  necktie  before  the  glass,  nnd 
led  us  down-stairs  to  say  good-morning  to  mamma. 


CHILDHOOD  7 

i 

CHAPTER   II 

MAMMA 

Mamma  was  sitting  in  the  parlor,  and  pouring  out  the 
tea ;  in  one  hand  she  held  the  teapot,  with  the  other  the 
faucet  of  the  samovar,  from  which  the  water  flowed  over 
the  top  of  the  teapot  upon  the  tray  beneath.  But  though 
she  was  gazing  steadily  at  it,  she  did  not  perceive  it,  nor 
that  we  had  entered. 

So  many  memories  of  the  past  present  themselves 
when  one  tries  to  revive  in  fancy  the  features  of  a  be- 
loved being,  that  one  views  them  dimly  through  these 
memories,  as  through  tears.  These  are  the  tears  of 
imagination.  When  I  try  to  recall  my  mother  as  she 
was  at  that  time,  nothing  appears  to  me  but  her  brown 
eyes,  which  always  expressed  love  and  goodness ;  the 
mole  on  her  neck  a  little  lower  down  than  the  spot 
where  the  short  hairs  grow ;  her  white  embroidered  col- 
lar ;  her  cool,  soft  hand,  which  petted  me  so  often,  and 
which  I  so  often  kissed  :  but  her  image  as  a  whole 
escapes  me. 

To  the  left  of  the  divan  stood  the  old  English  grand 
piano ;  and  before  the  piano  sat  my  dark-complexioned 
sister  Liubotchka.  playing  dementi's  studies  with  evi- 
dent effort,  and  with  ro.sy  fingers  which  had  just  been 
washed  in  cold  water.  §he  was  eleven.  She  wore  a 
short  frock  of  coarse  linen  with  white  lace-trimmed  pan- 
talets, and  could  only  manage  an  octave  as  an  arpeggio. 
Beside  her,  half  turned  away,  sat  Marya  Ivanovna,  in  a 
cap  with  rose-colored  ribbons,  a  blue  jacket,  and  a  red 
and  angry  face,  which  assumed  a  still  more  forbid- 
ding expression  when  Karl  Ivanitch  entered.  She 
looked  threateningly  at  him ;  and,  without  responding 
to  his  salute,  she  continued  to  count,  and  beat  time  with 
her  foot,  ^;/r,  tzvo,  three,  more  loudly  and  commandingly 
than  before. 

Karl  Ivanitch,  paying  no  attention  whatever  to  this, 
according   to    his    custom,    went    straight   to    kiss    my 


g  CHILDHOOD 

I 
mother's  hand  with  a  German  greeting.     She  recovered 

herself,  shook  her  Httle  head  as  though  desirous  of  driv- 
ing away  painful  thoughts  with  the  gesture,  gave  her 
hand  to  Karl  Ivanitch,  and  kissed  him  on  his  wrinkled 
temple,  while  he  kissed  her  hand. 

"Thank  you,  my  dear  Karl  Ivanitch."  And  continu- 
ing to  speak  in  German,  she  inquired  :  — 

"  Did  the  children  sleep  well .''  " 

Karl  Ivanitch  was  deaf  in  one  ear,  and  now  heard 
nothing  at  all  on  account  of  the  noise  from  the  piano. 
He  bent  over  the  divan,  rested  one  hand  on  the  table  as 
he  stood  on  one  foot ;  and  with  a  smile  which  seemed  to 
me  then  the  height  of  refinement,  he  raised  his  cap 
above  his  head,  and  said  : — ■ 

"Will  you  excuse  me,  Natalya  Nikolaevna  ?  " 

Karl  Ivanitch,  for  the  sake  of  not  catching  cold  in  his 
bald  head,  never  took  off  his  red  cap  ;  but  each  time  he 
entered  the  drawing-room  he  begged  permission  to  keep 
it  on. 

"  Put   on  your  cap,  Karl    Ivanitch I    ask   you    if 

the  children  slept  well  .'* "  said  mamma,  moving  nearer 
to  him,  and  speaking  louder. 

But  again  he  heard  nothing,  covered  his  bald  spot 
with  his  red  cap,  and  smiled  more  amiably  than  ever. 

"  Stop  a  minute,  Mimi,"  said  mamma  to  Marya  Iva- 
novna,  with  a  smile;  "we  can  hear  nothing." 

Beautiful  as  was  mamma's  face,  it  became  incompara- 
bly more  lovely  when  she  smiled,  and  seemed  to  enliven 
everything  about  her.  If  in  life's  trying  moments  I 
could  catch  but  a  glimpse  of  that  smile,  I  should  not 
know  what  grief  is.  It  seems  to  me  that  what  is  called 
beauty  of  face  consists  in  the  smile  alone  :  if  the  smile 
adds  charm  to  the  face,  then  the  face  is  very  fine ;  if  it 
does  not  alter  the  countenance,  then  the  latter  is  ordi- 
nary ;  if  it  spoils  it,  then  it  is  bad. 

When  greeting  me,  mamma  took  my  head  in  both  her 
hands,  and  bent  it  back,  looked  intently  at  me,  and  said: 

"  You  have  been  crying  this  morning  ?  " 

I  made  no  reply.  She  kissed  me  on  the  eyes,  and 
asked  in  German  :  — 


CHILDHOOD  9 

*'  What  were  you  crying  about  ? " 

When  she  spoke  pleasantly  to  us,  she  always  ad- 
dressed us  in  that  tongue,  which  she  knew  to  perfection. 

"  I  cried  in  my  sleep,  mamma,"  I  said,  recalling  my 
fictitious  dream  with  all  the  details,  and  I  involuntarily 
shuddered  at  the  thought. 

Karl  Ivanitch  confirmed  my  statement,  but  held  his 
peace  about  the  dream.  After  discussing  the  weather, 
in  which  conversation  Mimi  also  took  part,  mamma  laid 
si.x  pieces  of  sugar  on  the  tray  for  some  of  the  favored 
servants,  and  went  to  her  embroidery-frame  which  stood 
in  the  window. 

"  Now  go  to  your  father,  children,  and  tell  him  that 
he  must  come  to  me  without  fail  before  he  goes  to 
the  threshing-floor." 

The  music,  counting,  and  black  looks  began  again, 
and  we  went  to  papa.  Passing  through  the  room  which 
had  borne  the  title  of  the  butler's  pantry  since  grand- 
father's time,  we  entered  the  study. 


CHAPTER  III 

PAPA 

He  was  standing  by  his  writing-table,  and  pointing 
to  some  envelops,  papers,  and  bundles  of  bank-notes. 
He  was  angry,  and  was  discussing  something  sharply 
with  the  overseer,  Yakoff  Mikhailof,  who,  standing  in 
his  usual  place,  between  the  door  and  the  barometer, 
with  his  hands  behind  him,  was  moving  his  fingers  with 
great  vivacity  in  various  directions. 

The  angrier  papa  grew,  the  more  swiftly  did  the  fin- 
gers move,  and  on  the  contrary,  when  papa  ceased 
speaking,  the  fingers  also  stopped  ;  but  when  Yakoff 
began  to  talk  himself,  his  fingers  underwent  the  greatest 
disturbance,  and  jumped  wildly  about  in  all  directions. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  Yakoff's  secret  thoughts  might  be 
guessed  from  their  movements  :  but  his  face  was  always 
quiet ;  it  expressed  a  sense  of  his  own  dignity  and  at  the 


ro  CHILDHOOD 

i 

same  time  of  subordination,  that  is  to  say,  "  I  am  right 

but  nevertheless  have  your  own  way  !  " 

When  papa  saw  us,  he  merely  said :  — 

"Wait,  I  '11  be  with  you  presently." 

And  he  nodded  his  head  toward  the  door,  to  indicate 
that  one  of  us  was  to  shut  it. 

"  Ah,  merciful  God !  what 's  to  be  done  with  you 
now,  Yakoff .-' "  he  went  on,  speaking  to  the  overseer, 
shrugging  his  shoulders  (which  was  a  habit  with  him). 
"  This  envelope  with  an  inclosurc  of  eight  hundred 
rubles ...." 

Yakoff  moved  his  abacus,  counted  off  eight  hundred 
rubles,  fixed  his  gaze  on  some  indefinite  point,  and 
waited  for  what  was  coming  next. 

" ....  is  for  the  expenses  of  ^the  farming  during  my  ab- 
sence. Do  you  understand  ?  From  the  mill  you  are  to 
receive  one  thousand  rubles ;  is  that  so,  or  not  ?  You 
are  to  receive  back  eight  thousand  worth  of  loans  from 
the  treasury  ;  for  the  hay,  of  which,  according  to  your 
own  calculation,  you  can  sell  seven  thousand  poods, ^ — • 
at  forty-five  kopeks,  I  will  say,  —  you  will  get  three 
thousand ;  consequently,  how  much  money  will  you 
have  in  all  .-•     Twelve  thousand  ;  is  that  so,  or  not  ? " 

"Exactly,  sir,"  said  Yakoff. 

But  I  perceived  from  the  briskness  with  which  his 
fingers  moved,  that  he  wanted  to  answer  back ;  papa 
interrupted  him. 

"  Now,  out  of  this  money,  you  will  send  ten  thousand 
rubles  to  the  Council  for  Petrovskoe.  Now,  the  money 
which  is  in  the  office,"  continued  papa  (Yakoff  mixed 
up  this  twelve  thousand,  and  told  off  twenty-one  thou- 
sand), "you  will  bring  to  me,  and  charge  to  expenses 
on  this  present  date."  (Yakoff  shook  up  his  abacus 
again,  and  turned  it,  indicating  thereby,  it  is  probable, 
that  the  twenty-one  thousand  would  disappear  also.) 
"  And  this  envelope  containing  money  you  will  forward 
from  me  to  its  address." 

I  was  standing  near  the  table,  and  I  glanced  at  the 
inscription.     It  read  :  "  Karl  Ivanitch  Mauer." 

Papa  must  have  perceived  that  I   had  read  what  it 

1  A  pood  is  about  forty  pounds. 


CHILDHOOD  II 

was  not  necessary  that  I  should  know ;  for  he  laid  his 
hand  on  my  shoulder,  and  with  a  slight  movement  indi- 
cated that  I  was  to  go  away  from  his  table.  I  did  not 
understand  whether  it  was  a  caress  or  a  hint ;  but, 
whatever  it  meant,  I  kissed  the  large,  sinewy  hand 
which  rested  on  my  shoulder. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Yakoff.  "  And  what  are  your  orders 
with  regard  to  the  Khabarovka  money  ? " 

Khabarovka  was  mamma's  village. 

"  Leave  it  in  the  office,  and  on  no  account  make  use 
of  it  without  my  orders." 

Yakoff  remained  silent  for  a  few  seconds,  then  his 
fingers  twisted  about  with  increased  rapidity,  and  alter- 
ing the  expression  of  servile  stupidity  with  which  he 
had  listened  to  his  master's  orders,  to  the  expression  of 
bold  cunning  which  was  natural  to  him,  he  drew  the 
abacus  toward  him,  and  began  to  speak. 

"  Permit  me  to  report,  Piotr  Alexandritch,  that  it 
shall  be  as  you  please,  but  rE  is  impossible  to  pay  the 
Council  on  time.  You  said,"  he  continued,  his  speech 
broken  with  pauses,  "  that  we  must  receive  money  from 
the  loans,  from  the  mill,  and  from  the  hay."  As  he 
mentioned  these  statistics,  he  calculated  them  on  the 
abacus.  "  I  am  afraid  that  we  may  be  making  some 
mistake  in  our  reckoning,"  he  added,  after  a  pause, 
glancing  with  deep  thoughtfulness  at  papa. 

"How.?" 

"  Please  to  consider ;  with  regard  to  the  mill,  since 
the  miller  has  been  to  me  twice  to  ask  for  delay,  and 
has  sworn  by  Christ  our  God  that  he  has  no  money  ... 
and  he  is  here  now.  Will  you  not  please  to  talk  with 
him  yourself  ?  " 

"  What  does  he  say  ? "  asked  papa,  signifying  by  a 
motion  of  his  head  that  he  did  not  wish  to  speak  with 
the  miller. 

"  The  same  old  story.  He  says  that  there  was  no 
grinding ;  that  what  little  money  he  got,  he  put  into 
the  dam.  If  we  take  him  away,  sir,  will  it  be  of  any 
advantage  to  us  ?  With  regard  to  the  loans,  as  you 
were  pleased  to  mention  them,  I  think  I  have  already 


12  CHILDHOOD 

reported  that  our  money  is  sunk  there,  and  we  shall 
not  be  able  to  get  at  it  very  soon.  I  sent  a  load  of 
flour  into  the  city  a  few  days  ago,  to  Ivan  Afanasitch, 
with  a  note  about  the  matter ;  he  replied  that  he  would 
be  glad  to  exert  himself  in  Piotr  Alexandrovitch's  be- 
half, but  the  affair  is  not  in  my  hands,  and  it  is  evident 
from  the  general  aspect  of  things  that  you  will  hardly 
receive  your  quittance  under  two  months.  You  were 
pleased  to  speak  of  the  hay ;  suppose  it  does  sell  for 
three  thousand." 

He  marked  off  three  thousand  on  his  abacus,  and 
remained  silent  for  a  moment,  glancing , first  at  his 
calculating-frame  and  then  at  papa's  eyes,  as  much  as 
to  say :  — 

"  You  see  yourself  how  little  it  is.  Yes,  and  we  will 
chaffer  about  the  hay  again  if  it  is  to  be  sold  now,  you 
will  please  to  understand." 

It  was  plain  that  he  had  a  great  store  of  arguments ; 
it  must  have  been  for  that  reason  that  papa  interrupted 
him. 

"  I  shall  make  no  change  in  my  arrangements,"  he 
said ;  "  but  if  any  delay  should  actually  occur  in  re- 
ceiving this  money,  then  there  is  nothing  to  be  done ; 
you  will  take  what  is  necessary  from  the  Khabarovka 
funds." 

"Yes,  sir." 

It  was  evident  from  the  expression  of  Yakoff's  face 
and  fingers,  that  this  last  order  afforded  him  the  great- 
est satisfaction. 

Yakoff  was  a  serf,  and  a  very  zealous  and  devoted 
man.  Like  all  good  overseers,  he  was  extremely  parsi- 
monious on  his  master's  account,  and  entertained  the 
'Ntrangest  possible  ideas  as  to  what  was  for  his  master's 
interest.  He  was  eternally  fretting  over  the  increase 
of  his  master's  property  at  the  expense  of  that  of  his 
mistress,  and  tried  to  demonstrate  that  it  was  indispen- 
sable to  employ  all  the  revenue  from  her  estate  upon 
Petrovskoe  (the  village  in  which  we  lived).  He  was 
triumphant  at  the  present  moment,  because  he  had  suc- 
ceeded on  this  point. 


CHILDHOOD 


kj 


Papa  greeted  us,  and  said  that  it  was  time  to  put  a 
stop  to  our  idleness ;  we  were  no  longer  small  children, 
and  it  was  time  for  us  to  study  seriously. 

"  I  think  you  already  know  that  I  am  going  to  Moscow 
to-night,  and  I  shall  take  you  with  me,"  he  said.  "You 
will  live  with  your  grandmother,  and  mamma  will  remain 
here  with  the  girls.  And  you  know  that  she  will  have 
but  one  consolation, — to  hear  that  you  are  studying 
well,  and  that  they  are  pleased  wMth  you." 

Although  we  had  been  expecting  something  unusual, 
from  the  preparations  which  had  been  making  for  several 
days,  this  news  surprised  us  terribly.  Volodya  turned 
red,  and  repeated  mamma's  message  in  a  trembling 
voice. 

"  So  that  is  what  my  dream  foretold,"  I  thought.  "God 
grant  there  may  be  nothing  worse  !  " 

I  was  very,  very  sorry  for  mamma  ;  and,  at  the  same 
time,  the  thought  that  we  were  grown  up  afforded  me 
pleasure. 

"If  we  are  going  away  to-night,  we  surely  shall  have 
no  lessons.  That's  famous,"  I  thought.  "But  I'm 
sorry  for  Karl  Ivanovitch.  He  is  certainly  going  to 
be  discharged,  otherwise  that  envelope  would  not  have 
been  prepared  for  him.  It  would  be  better  to  go  on 
studying  forever,  and  not  go  away,  and  not  part  from 
mamma,  and  not  hurt  poor  Karl  Ivanitch's  feelings.  He 
is  so  very  unhappy  !  " 

These  thoughts  flashed  through  my  mind.  I  did  not 
stir  from  the  spot,  and  gazed  intently  at  the  black  rib- 
bons in  my  slippers. 

After  speaking  a  few  words  to  Karl  Ivanitch  about 
the  fall  of  the  barometer,  and  giving  orders  to  Yakoff 
not  to  feed  the  dogs,  in  order  that  he  might  go  out 
after  dinner  and  make  a  farewell  trial  of  the  young 
hounds,  papa,  contrary  to  my  expectations,  sent  us  to 
our  studies,  comforting  us,  however,  with  a  promise  to 
take  us  on  the  hunt. 

On  the  way  up-stairs,  I  ran  out  on  the  terrace.  Papa's 
favorite  greyhound,  Milka,  lay  blinking  in  the  sunshine 
at  the  door. 


14  CHILDHOOD 

"  Milotchka,"  I  said,  petting  her  and  kissing  her  nose, 
"we  are  going  away  to-day;  good-by !  We  shall  never 
see  each  other  again." 

My  feelings  overpowered  me,  and  I  burst  into  tears. 


CHAPTER   IV 

LESSONS 

Karl  Ivanitch  was  very  ,much  out  of  sorts.  This 
was  evident  from  his  frowning  brows,  and  from  the 
way  he  flung  his  coat  into  the  commode,  his  angry  man- 
ner of  tying  his  girdle,  and  the  deep  mark  which  he 
made  with  his  nail  in  the  conversation-book  to  indicate 
the  pojnt  which  we  must  learn  by  heart.  Volodya 
studied  properly ;  but  my  mind  was  so  upset  that  I 
positively  could  do  nothing.  I  gazed  long  and  stupidly 
at  the  conversation-book,  but  I  could  not  read  for  the 
tears  which  gathered  in  my  eyes  at  the  thought  of  the 
parting  before  us.  When  the  time  for  recitation  came, 
Karl  Ivanitch  listened  with  his  eyes  half  shut  (which 
was  a  bad  sign);  and  just  at  the  place  where  one  says, 
"Where  do  you  come  from.''"  and  the  other  answers, 
"  I  come  from  the  coffee-house,"  I  could  no  longer  re- 
strain my  tears  ;  and  sobs  prevented  my  uttering,  "  Have 
you  not  read  the  paper.-'"  When  it  came  to  writing,  I 
made  such  blots  with  my  tears  falling  on  the  paper, 
that  I  might  have  been  writing  with  water  on  wrapping- 
paper. 

Karl  Ivanitch  became  angry  ;  he  put  me  on  his  knees, 
declared  that  it  was  obstinacy,  a  puppet  comedy  (this 
was  a  favorite  expression  of  his),  threatened  me  with 
the  ruler,  and  demanded  that  I  should  beg  his  pardon, 
although  I  could  not  utter  a  word  for  my  tears.  He 
must  have  recognized  his  injustice  at  length,  for  he 
went  into  Nikolai's  room  and  slammed  the  door. 

The  conversation  in  the  dyadka's  room  was  audible  in 
the  school-room. 


CHILDHOOD  15 

"  Vou  have  heard,  Nikolai,  that  the  children  are  going 
to  Moscow  ? "  said  Karl  Ivanitch,  as  he  entered. 

"  Certainly,  I  have  heard  that." 

Nikolai"  must  have  made  a  motion  to  rise,  for  Karl 
Ivanitch  said,  "  Sit  still,  Nikolai !  "  and  then  he  shut  the 
door.  I  emerged  from  the  corner,  and  went  to  listen  at 
the  door. 

"However  much  good  you  do  to  people,  however 
much  you  are  attached  to  them,  gratitude  is  not  to  be 
expected,  apparently,  Nikolai,"  said  Karl  Ivanitch,  with 
feeling. 

Nikolai",  who  was  sitting  at  the  window  at  his  shoe- 
making,  nodded  his  head  affirmatively. 

"  I  have  lived  in  this  house  twelve  years,  and  I  can 
say  before  God,  Nikolai,"  continued  Karl  Ivanitch,  rais- 
ing his  eyes  and  his  snuff-box  to  the  ceiling,  "that  I 
have  loved  them,  and  taken  more  interest  in  them  than 
if  they  had  been  my  own  children.  You  remember, 
Nikolai",  when  Volodenka  had  the  fever,  how  I  sat  by 
his  bedside,  and  never  closed  my  eyes  for  nine  days. 
Yes ;  then  I  was  good,  dear  Karl  Ivanitch ;  then  I  was 
necessary.  But  now,"  he  added  with  an  ironical  smile, 
"now  the  cJiildren  are  grozvn  tip;  they  must  study  in 
earnest.  Just  as  if  they  were  not  learning  anything 
here,  Nikolai" !  " 

"  So  they  are  to  study  more,  it  seems  ">.  "  said  Nikolai", 
laying  down  his  awl,  and  drawing  out  his  thread  with 
both  hands. 

"  Yes ;  I  am  no  longer  needed,  I  must  be  driven  off. 
But  where  are  their  promises }  Where  is  their  gratitude .-' 
I  revere  and  love  Natalya  Nikolaevna,  Nikolai,"  said  he, 
laying  his  hand  on  his  breast.  "But  what  is  she.-*  Her 
will  is  of  no  more  consequence  in  this  house  than  that;  " 
hereupon  he  flung  a  scrap  of  leather  on  the  floor  with 
an  expressive  gesture.  "  I  know  whose  doing  this  is, 
and  why  I  am  no  longer  needed ;  because  I  don't  lie, 
and  pretend  not  to  see  things,  like  some  people.  I  have 
always  been  accustomed  to  speak  the  truth  to  every 
one,"  said  he,  proudly.  "God  be  with  them!  They 
won't  accumulate  wealth  by  getting  rid  of  me ;  and  God 


i6  CHILDHOOD 

is  merciful,  —  T  shall  find  a  bit  of  bread  for  myself  ... 
shall  I  not,  Nikolai"  ?  " 

Nikolai'  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  Karl  Ivanitch, 
as  though  desirous  of  assuring  himself  whether  he  really 
would  be  able  to  find  a  bit  of  bread;  but  he  said  nothing. 

Karl  Ivanitch  talked  much  and  long  in  this  strain. 
He  said  they  had  been  more  capable  of  appreciating 
his  services  at  a  certain  general's  house,  where  he  had 
formerly  lived  (I  was  much  pained  to  hear  it).  He 
spoke  of  Saxony,  of  his  parents,  of  his  friend  the  tailor, 
Schonheit,  and  so  forth,  and  so  forth. 

I  sympathized  with  his  sorrow,  and  it  pained  me  that 
papa  and  Karl  Ivanitch,  whom  I  loved  almost  equally, 
did  not  understand  each  other.  I  betook  myself  to  my 
corner  again,  crouched  down  on  my  heels,  and  pondered 
how  I  might  bring  about  an  understanding  between 
them. 

When  Karl  Ivanitch  returned  to  the  school-room,  he 
ordered  me  to  get  up,  and  prepare  my  copy-book  for 
writing  from  dictation.  When  all  was  ready,  he  seated 
himself  majestically  in  his  arm-chair,  and  in  a  voice 
which  appeared  to  issue  from  some  great  depth,  he 
began  to  dictate  as  follows :  — 

" '  Of  all  pas-sions  the  most  re-volt-ing  is,'  have  you 
written  that.''"  Here  he  paused,  slowly  took  a  pinch 
of  snuff,  and  continued  with  renewed  energy,  —  "  '  the 
most  revolting  is  In-grat-i-tude  ' ....  a  capital  /." 

I  looked  at  him  after  writing  the  last  word,  in  expecta- 
tion of  more. 

"  Period,"  said  he,  with  a  barely  perceptible  smile, 
and  made  us  a  sign  to  give  him  our  copy-books. 

He  read  this  apothegm,  which  gave  utterance  to  his 
inward  sentiment,  through  several  times,  with  various 
intonations,  and  with  an  expression  of  the  greatest  satis- 
faction. Then  he  set  us  a  lesson  in  history,  and  seated 
himself  by  the  window.  His  face  was  not  so  morose  as 
it  had  been  ;  it  expressed  the  delight  of  a  man  who  had 
taken  a  proper  revenge  for  an  insult  that  had  been  put 
upon  him. 

It  was  quarter  to  one,  but  Karl  Ivanitch  had  no  idea 


CHILDHOOD  T7 

of  dismissing  us,  apparently ;  in  fact,  he  gave  out  some 
new  lessons. 

Ennui  and  hunger  increased  in  equal  measure.  With 
the  greatest  impatience,  I  noted  all  the  signs  which  be- 
tokened the  near  approach  of  dinner.  There  came  the 
woman  with  her  mop  to  wash  the  plates ;  then  I  could 
hear  the  dishes  rattle  on  the  sideboard.  I  heard  them 
move  the  table,  and  place  the  chairs ;  then  Mimi  came 
in  from  the  garden  with  Liubotchka  and  Katenka  (Ka- 
tenka  was  Mimi's  twelve-year-old  daughter);  but  noth- 
ing was  to  be  seen  of  Foka,  the  majordomo,  who  always 
came  and  announced  that  dinner  was  ready.  Then  only 
could  we  throw  aside  our  books  without  paying  any  at- 
tention to  Karl  Ivanitch,  and  run  down-stairs. 

Then  footsteps  were  audible  on  the  stairs,  but  that 
was  not  Foka !  I  knew  his  step  by  heart,  and  could 
always  recognize  the  squeak  of  his  boots.  The  door 
opened,  and  a  figure  which  was  totally  unknown  to  me 
appeared. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    FOOL 

Into  the  room  walked  a  man  of  fifty,  with  a  long, 
pale,  pock-marked  face,  with  long  gray  hair  and  a  sparse 
reddish  beard.  He  was  of  such  vast  height,  that,  in 
order  to  pass  through  the  door,  he  was  obliged  to  bend 
not  only  his  head,  but  his  whole  body.  He  wore  a  ragged 
garment  which  resembled  both  a  kaftan  and  a  cassock  ; 
in  his  hand  he  carried  a  huge  staff.  As  he  entered  the 
■room,  he  smote  the  floor  with  it  with  all  his  might ; 
opening  his  mouth,  and  wrinkling  his  brows,  he  laughed 
in  a  terrible  and  unnatural  manner.  He  was  blind  of 
one  eye ;  and  the  white  pupil  of  that  eye  hopped  about 
incessantly,  and  imparted  to  his  already  homely  counte- 
nance a  still  more  repulsive  expression. 

"  Aha  !  I  've  found  you  !  "  he  shouted,  running  up  In 
Volodya  with  little  steps ;  he  seized  his  head,  and  begau 


i8  CHILDHOOD 

a  careful  examination  of  his  crown.  Then,  with  a  per- 
fectly serious  expression,  he  left  him,  walked  up  to  the 
table,  and  began  to  blow  under  the  oil-cloth,  and  to  make 
the  sign  of  the  cross  over  it.  "  O-oh,  it's  a  pity!  o-oh, 
it 's  sad  !  The  dear  children  ....  will  fly  away,"  he  said,  in 
a  voice  quivering  with  tears,  gazing  feelingly  at  Volo 
dya ;  and  he  began  to  wipe  away  the  tears  which  were 
actually  falling,  with  his  sleeve. 

His  voice  was  coarse  and  hoarse,  his  movements  hasty 
and  rough  ;  his  talk  was  silly  and  incoherent  (he  never 
used  any  pronouns);  but  his  intonations  were  so  touch- 
ing, and  his  grotesque  yellow  face,  assumed  at  times 
such  a  frankly  sorrowful  expression,  that,  in  listening  to 
him,  it  was  impossible  to  refrain  from  a  feeling  of  min- 
gled pity,  fear,  and  grief. 

This  was  the  fool  and  pilgrim  Grischa. 

Whence  was  he .''  Who  were  his  parents  ?  What  had 
induced  him  to  adopt  the  singular  life  which  he  led? 
No  one  knew.  I  only  knew  that  he  had  passed  since 
the  age  of  fifteen  as  a  fool  who  went  barefoot  winter  and 
summer,  visited  the  monasteries,  gave  little  images  to 
those  who  struck  his  fancy,  and  uttered  enigmatic  words 
which  some  people  accepted  as  prophecy ;  that  no  one 
had  ever  known  him  in  any  other  aspect ;  that  he  occa- 
sionally went  to  grandmother's  ;  and  that  some  said  he 
was  the  unfortunate  son  of  wealthy  parents,  and  a  gen- 
uine fool ;  while  others  held  that  he  was  a  simple  peas- 
ant and  lazy. 

At  length  the  long-wished-for  and  punctual  Foka 
arrived,  and  we  went  down-stairs.  Grischa,  who  con- 
tinued to  sob  and  talk  all  sorts  of  nonsense,  followed  us, 
and  pounded  every  step  on  the  stairs  with  his  staff. 
Papa  and  mamma  entered  the  drawing-room  arm  in  arm, 
discussing  something  in  a  low  tone.  Marya  Ivanovna 
was  sitting  with  much  dignity  in  one  of  the  arm-chairs, 
symmetrically  arranged  at  right  angles  to  the  divan,  and 
giving  instructions  in  a  stern,  repressed  voice  to  the  girls 
who  sat  beside  her.  As  soon  as  Karl  Ivanitch  entered 
the  room,  she  glanced  at  him,  but  immediately  turned 
away ;  and  her  face  assumed  an  expression  which  might 


CHILDHOOD  19 

have  been  interpreted  to  mean  :  "  I  do  not  see  you,  Karl 
Tvanitch."  It  was  plain  from  the  girls'  eyes,  that  they 
were  very  anxious  to  impart  to  us  some  extremely  impor- 
tant news  as  soon  as  possible ;  but  it  would  have  been 
an  infringement  of  Mimi's  rules  to  jump  up  and  come  to 
us.  We  must  first  go  to  her,  and  say,  "  Bo)ijoti}\  Mimi !  " 
and  give  a  scrape  with  the  foot ;  and  then  it  was  permis- 
sible to  enter  into  conversation. 

What  an  intolerable  creature  that  Mimi  was  !  It  was 
impossible  to  talk  about  anything  in  her  presence ;  she 
considered  everything  improper.  Moreover,  she  was 
constantly  exhorting  us  to  speak  French,  and  that,  as  if 
out  of  malice,  just  when  we  wanted  to  chatter  in  Rus- 
sian ;  or  at  dinner  —  you  would  just  begin  to  enjoy  a 
dish,  and  want  to  be  let  alone,  when  she  would  infallibly 
say,  "  Eat  that  with  bread,"  or,  "  How  are  you  holding 
your  fork  .''  "  —  "  What  business  is  it  of  hers  .'*  "  you  think. 
"  Let  her  teach  her  girls,  but  Karl  Ivanitch  is  there  to 
see  to  us."     I  fully  shared  his  hatred  for  some  people. 

"  Ask  mamma  to  take  us  on  the  hunt,"  whispered 
Katenka,  stopping  me  by  seizing  m)-  round  jacket,  when 
the  grown-up  people  had  passed  on  before  into  the  din- 
ing-room. 

"  Very  good  ;  we  will  try." 

Grischa  ate  in  the  dining-room,  but  at  a  small  table 
apart ;  he  did  not  raise  his  eyes  from  his  plate,  made 
fearful  grimaces,  sighed  occasionally,  and  said,  as  though 
speaking  to    himself:    "It's  a    pity....  she  ^    has    flown 

away....  the   dove  will  fly  to   heaven Oh,  there's  a 

stone  on  the  grave !  "  and  so  on. 

Mamma  had  been  in  a  troubled  state  of  mind  ever 
since  the  morning ;  Grischa's  presence,  words,  and  be- 
havior evidently  increased  this  perturbation. 

"  Ah,  I  nearly  forgot  to  ask  you  about  one  thing," 
she  said,  handing  papa  a  plate  of  soup. 

"What  is  it.?" 

"  Please  have  your  dreadful  dogs  shut  up ;  they  came 

^  It  is  indispensable  to  the  sense  in  Enjjlish  to  employ  pronouns,  occa- 
sionally. This  niav  lie  considered  a  specimen  of  Grischa's  prophecy,  the 
pronoun  being  indicated  by  the  termination  of  the  verb.  — Tk. 


20  CHILDHOOD 

near  biting  poor  Grischa  when  he  passed  through  the 
yard.     And  they  might  attack  the  children." 

Hearing  himself  mentioned,  Grischa  turned  toward 
the  table,  and  began  to  exhibit  the  torn  tails  of  his  gar- 
ment, and  to  speak  with  his  mouth  full. 

"They  wanted  to  bite  to  death God  did  not  al- 
low it It 's  a  sin    to  set  the   dogs  on  !     Don't  beat 

the  bolschak  ^ ....  why  beat .''  God  forgives ....  times  are 
different  now." 

''  What 's  that  he 's  saying  ?  "  asked  papa,  gazing 
sternly  and  intently  at  him.  "  I  don't  understand  a 
word." 

"But  I  understand,"  answered  mamma;  "he  told 
me  that  some  huntsman  set  his  dogs  on  him,  on  pur- 
pose, as  he  says,  '  that  they  might  bite  him  to  death, 
but  God  did  not  permit  it ; '  and  he  begs  you  not  to 
punish  the  man  for  it." 

"  Ah  !  that 's  it,"  said  papa.  "  How  does  he  know 
that  I  mean  to  punish  the  huntsman  ?  You  know  that 
I  'm  not  overfond  of  these  gentlemen,"  he  added  in 
French,  "and  this  one  in  particular  does  not  please  me, 
and  ought....  " 

"  Ah,  do  not  say  that,  my  dear,"  interrupted  mamma, 
as  if  frightened  at  something.  "  What  do  you  know 
about  it .''  " 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  I  have  had  occasion  to  learn 
these  people's  ways  by  heart ;  enough  of  them  come 
to  you.  They  're  all  of  one  cut.  It 's  forever  and  eter- 
nally the  same  story." 

It  was  plain  that  mamma  held  a  totally  different 
opinion  on  this  point,  but  she  would  not  dispute. 

"  Please  give  me  a  patty,"  said  she.  "  Are  they  good 
to-day.''  " 

"Yes,  it  makes  me  angry,"  went  on  papa,  taking  a 
patty  in  his  hand,  but  holding  it  at  such  a  distance  that 
mamma  could  not  reach  it ;  "  it  makes  me  angry,  when 
I  see  sensible  and  cultivated  people  fall  into  the  trap." 

And  he  struck  the  table  with  his  fork. 

^  Elder  of  a  village,  family,  or  religious  community.  Grischa  called  all 
peasants  thus,  \\  ithout  regard  to  their  status. 


CHILDHOOD  21 

'  I  asked  you  to  hand  me  a  patty,"  she  repeated, 
reaching  out  her  hand. 

"  And  they  do  well,"  continued  papa,  moving  his 
hand  farther  away,  "  when  they  arrest  such  people. 
The  only  good  they  do  is  to  upset  the  weak  nerves  of 
certain  individuals,"  he  added  with  a  smile,  perceiving 
that  the  conversation  greatly  displeased  mamma,  and 
gave  her  the  patty. 

"  I  have  only  one  remark  to  make  to  you  on  the  sub- 
ject :  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that  a  man  who,  in  spite 
of  his  sixty  years,  goes  barefoot  summer  and  winter, 
and  wears  chains  weighing  two  poods,  which  he  never 
takes  off,  under  his  clothes,  and  who  has  more  than 
once  rejected  a  proposal  to  lead  an  easy  life,  —  it  is' 
difficult  to  believe  that  such  a  man  does  all  this  from 
laziness. 

"  As  for  prophecy,"  she  added  with  a  sigh,  after  a 
pause,  "  I  have  paid  for  my  belief  ;  I  think  I  have  told 
you  how  Kiriuscha  foretold  the  very  day  and  hour  of 
papa's  death." 

"Ah,  what  have  you  done  to  me  !  "  exclaimed  papa, 
smiling,  and  putting  his  hand  to  his  mouth  on  the  side 
where  Mimi  sat.  (When  he  did  this,  I  always  listened 
with  strained  attention,  in  the  expectation  of  something 
amusing.)  "Why  have  you  reminded  me  of  his  feet.-' 
I  have  looked  at  them,  and  now  I  shall  not  be  able  to 
eat  anything." 

The  dinner  was  nearing  its  end.  Liubotchka  and 
Katenka  winked  at  us  incessantly,  twisted  on  their 
chairs,  and  evinced  the  greatest  uneasiness.  The  winks 
.signified:  "Why  don't  you  ask  them  to  take  us  hunt- 
ing.?" I  nudged  Volodya  with  my  elbow;  Volodya 
nudged  me,  and  finally  summoned  up  his  courage :  he 
explained,  at  first  in  a  timid  voice,  but  afterwards  quite 
firmly  and  loudly,  that,  as  we  were  to  leave  on  that  day, 
we  should  like  to  have  the  girls  taken  to  the  hunt  with 
us,  in  the  carriage.^     After  a  short  consultation  among 

^  A  lineika,  or  "little  line," — that  is,  a  long,  orenerally  springless,  un- 
covered conveyance,  somewhat  of  the  jaunting-car  pattern,  suitable  foi 
rough  driving.  —  Tk. 


22  CHILDHOOD 

the  grown-up  people,  the  question  was  decided  in  our 
favor ;  and,  what  was  still  more  pleasant,  mamma  said 
that  she  would  go  with  us  herself. 


CHAPTER   VI 

PREPARATIONS    FOR    THE    HUNT 

During  dessert,  Yakoff  was  summoned,  and  received 
orders  with  regard  to  the  carriage,  the  dogs,  and  the 
saddle-horses,  —  all  being  given  with  the  greatest  mi- 
nuteness, and  every  horse  specified  by  name.  Volodya's 
horse  was  lame ;  papa  ordered  the  hunter  to  be  saddled 
for  him.  This  word  "  hunter  "  always  sounded  strange 
in  mamma's  ears  ;  it  seemed  to  her  that  it  must  be  some- 
thing in  the  nature  of  a  wild  beast,  and  that  it  would 
infallibly  run  away  with  and  kill  Volodya.  In  spite  of 
the  exhortations  of  papa  and  of  Volodya,  who  with 
wonderful  boldness  asserted  that  that  was  nothing,  and 
that  he  liked  to  have  the  horse  run  away  extremely, 
poor  mamma  continued  to  declare  that  she  should  be  in 
torments  during  the  whole  of  the  excursion. 

Dinner  came  to  an  end ;  the  big  people  went  to  the 
study  to  drink  their  coffee,  while  we  ran  into  the  garden, 
to  scrape  our  feet  along  the  paths  covered  with  the 
yellow  leaves  which  had  fallen,  and  to  talk.  The  con- 
versation began  on  the  subject  of  Volodya  riding  the 
hunter,  and  how  shameful  it  was  that  Liubotchka  ran 
more  softly  than  Katenka,  and  how  interesting  it  would 
be  to  see  Grischa's  chains,  and  so  on;  not  a  word  was 
said  about  our  separation.  Our  conversation  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  arrival  of  the  carriage,  upon  each  of 
whose  springs  sat  a  servant-boy.  Behind  the  carriage 
came  the  huntsmen  with  the  dogs  ;  behind  the  hunts- 
men Ignat,  the  coachman,  on  the  horse  destined  for 
Volodya,  and  leading  my  old  Kleper  by  the  bridle. 
First  we  rushed  to  the  fence,  whence  all  these  interest- 
ing  things    were    visible,    and   then    we    flew    up-stairs 


CHILDHOOD  23 

shrieking  and  stamping,  to  dress  ourselves  as  much 
like  hunters  as  possible.  One  of  the  chief  means  to 
this  end  was  tucking  our  trousers  into  our  boots.  We 
betook  ourselves  to  this  without  delay,  making  haste  to 
complete  the  operation,  and  run  out  upon  the  steps  to 
enjoy  the  sight  of  the  dogs  and  horses,  and  the  conver- 
sation with  the  huntsmen. 

The  day  was  warm.  White  clouds  of  fanciful  forms 
had  been  hovering  all  the  morning  on  the  horizon;  then 
the  little  breezes  drove  them  nearer  and  nearer,  so  that 
they  obscured  the  sun  from  time  to  time.  But  black 
and  frequent  as  were  these  clouds,  it  was  plain  that  they 
were  not  destined  to  gather  into  a  thunder-storm  and 
spoil  our  enjoyment  on  our  last  opportunity.  Toward 
evening  they  began  to  disperse  again:  some  grew  pale, 
lengthened  out,  and  fled  to  the  horizon  ;  others,  just 
overhead,  turned  into  white  transparent  scales ;  only  one 
large  black  cloud  lingered  in  the  east.  Karl  Ivanitch 
always  knew  where  every  sort  of  cloud  went ;  he  de- 
clared that  this  cloud  would  go  to  Maslovka,  that  there 
would  be  no  rain,  and  that  the  weather  would  be  fine. 

Foka,  in  spite  of  his  advanced  years,  ran  down  the 
steps  very  quickly  and  cleverly,  cried,  "  Drive  up !  " 
and,  planting  his  feet  far  apart,  stood  firm  in  the  middle 
of  the  entrance,  between  the  spot  to  which  the  carriage 
should  be  brought,  and  the  threshold,  in  the  attitude  of 
a  man  who  does  not  need  to  be  reminded  of  his  duty. 
The  ladies  followed,  and  after  a  brief  dispute  as  to  who 
should  sit  on  which  side,  and  whom  they  should  cling  to 
(although  it  seemed  to  me  quite  unnecessary  to  hold 
on),  they  seated  themselves,  opened  their  parasols,  and 
drove  off.  When  the  lineika  started,  mamma  pointed 
to  the  hunter,  and  asked  the  coachman  in  a  trembling 
voice :  — 

"  Is  that  the  horse  for  Vladimir  Petrovitch  ?  " 

And  when  the  coachman  replied  in  the  affirmative, 
she  waved  her  hand  and  turned  away.  I  was  very  im- 
patient ;  I  mounted  my  horse,  looked  straight  between 
his  ears,  and  went  through  various  evolutions  in  the 
courtyard. 


24  CHILDHOOD 

"Please  not  to  crush  the  dogs,"  said  one  of  the  hunts- 
men. 

"  Rest  easy ;  this  is  not  my  first  experience,"  I  an- 
swered proudly. 

Volodya  mounted  the  hunter,  not  without  some  quak- 
ing in  spite  of  his  resolution  of  character,  and  asked 
.several  times  as  he  patted  him  :  —  , 

"  Is  he  gentle  .-'  " 

He  looked  very  handsome  on  horseback,  — just  like  a^ 
grown-up  person.  His  thighs  sat  so  well  on  the  saddle 
that  I  was  envious,  —  particularly  as,  so  far  as  I  could 
judge  from  my  shadow,  I  was  far  from  presenting  so 
fine  an  appearance. 

Then  we  heard  papa's  step  on  the  stairs ;  the  dog- 
feeder  drove  up  the  scattered  hounds ;  the  huntsmen 
with  greyhounds  called  in  theirs,  and  began  to  mount. 
The  groom  led  the  horse  to  the  steps ;  papa's  leash  of 
dogs,  which  had  been  lying  about  in  various  picturesque 
poses,  ran  to  him.  After  him,  in  a  bead  collar  jingling 
like  iron,  Milka  sprang  gayly  out.  She  always  greeted 
the  male  dogs  when  she  came  out ;  she  played  with 
some,  smelled  of  others,  growled  a  little,  and  hunted 
fleas  on  others. 

Papa  mounted  his  horse,  and  we  set  out. 


CHAPTER   Vn 

THE    HUNT 

The  huntsman  in  chief,  who  was  called  Turka,  rode 
in  front  on  a  dark  gray  Roman-nosed  horse ;  he  wore  a 
shaggy  cap,  a  huge  horn  over  his  shoulder,  and  a  knife 
in  his  belt.  From  the  man's  fierce  and  gloomy  exterior, 
one  would  sooner  imagine  that  he  was  going  to  deadly 
conflict  than  on  a  hunting  expedition.  About  the  hind 
heels  of  his  horse  ran  the  hounds,  clustered  together  in 
a  many-hued,  undulating  pack.  It  was  pitiful  to  con- 
template the  fate  which  iDcfell  any  unfortunate  dog  who 
took  it  into  his  head  to  linger  behind.     His  companion 


CHILDHOOD  25 

was  forced  to  drag  him  along  with  great  effort ;  and 
when  he  had  succeeded  in  this,  one  of  the  huntsmen 
who  rode  in  the  rear  never  failed  to  give  him  a  cut  with 
his  whip,  saying,  "  To  the  pack  with  you  !  "  When  we 
emerged  from  the  gates,  papa  ordered  us  and  the  hunts- 
men to  ride  along  the  road,  but  he  himself  turned  into 
a  field  of  rye. 

The  grain  harvest  was  in  full  swing.  The  shining 
yellow  field,  extending  farther  than  the  eye  could  reach, 
was  closed  in  on  one  side  only  by  a  lofty  blue  forest 
which  seemed  to  me  then  a  very  distant  and  mysterious 
place,  behind  which  the  world  came  to  an  end,  or  some 
uninhabited  region  began.  The  whole  field  was  cov- 
ered with  shocks  of  sheaves  and  with  people.  Here 
and  there  amid  the  tall  rye,  on  some  spot  that  had  been 
reaped,  the  bended  back  of  a  reaper  was  visible,  the 
swing  of  the  ears  as  she  laid  them  between  herfingers, 
a  woman  in  the  shade,  bending  over  a  cradle,  and  scat- 
tered sheaves  upon  the  stubble  strewn  with  cornflowers. 
In  another  quarter,  peasants  in  their  shirt-sleeves,  stand- 
ing on  carts,  were  loading  the  sheaves,  and  raising  a 
dust  in  the  dry,  hot  fields.  The  starosta  (overseer), 
in  boots,  and  with  his  armyak  ^  thrown  on  without  the 
sleeves,  and  tally-sticks  in  his  hand,  perceiving  papa  in 
the  distance,  took  off  his  felt  cap,  wiped  his  red- 
dish head  and  beard  with  a  towel,  and  shouted  at  the 
women.  The  sorrel  horse  which  papa  rode  had  a  light, 
playful  gait ;  now  and  then  he  dropped  his  head  on  his 
breast,  pulled  at  the  reins,  and  with  his  heavy  tail 
brushed  away  the  horse-flies  and  common  flies  which 
clung  thirstily  to  him.  Two  greyhounds,  with  their  tails 
curved  in  the  shape  of  a  sickle,  lifted  their  legs  high 
and  sprang  gracefully  over  the  tall  stubble,  behind  the 
horse's  heels;  M ilka  ran  in  front,  and,  with  head  bent 
low,  was  watching  for  the  scent.  The  conversation  of 
the  people,  the  noise  of  the  horses  and  carts,  the  merry 
whistle  of  the  quail,  the  hum  of  insects  which  circled  in 
motionless  swarms  in  the  air,  the  scent  of  the  worm- 
wood, the  straw,  and  the  sweat  of  the  horses,  the  thou 

'  A  long,  wide  coat  worn  by  peasants. 


26  CHILDHOOD 

sands  of  varying  hues  and  shadows  which  the  glowing 
sun  poured  over  the  bright  yellow  stubble-field,  the  blue 
of  the  distant  forest  and  the  pale  lilac  of  the  clouds,  the 
white  spider's  webs  which  floated  through  the  air  or  lay 
upon  the  stubble,  —  all  this  I  saw,  heard,  and  felt. 

When  we  reached  Kalinovoe  (viburnum)  woods,  we 
found  the  carriage  already  there,  and,  beyond  all  our 
expectations,  a  one-horse  cart,  in  the  midst  of  which  sat 
the  butler.  Under  the  hay  we  caught  glimpses  of  a 
samovar,  a  cask  with  a  form  of  ice-cream,  and  some 
other  attractive  parcels  and  baskets.  It  was  impossible 
to  make  any  mistake  ;  there  was  to  be  tea,  ice-cream, 
and  fruit  in  the  open  air.  At  the  sight  of  the  cart,  we 
manifested  an  uproarious  joy ;  for  it  was  considered  a 
great  treat  to  drink  tea  in  the  woods  on  the  grass,  and 
especially  in  a  place  where  nobody  had  ever  drunk  tea 
before. 

Turka  came  to  this  little  meadow-encircled  wood, 
halted,  listened  attentively  to  papa's  minute  directions 
how  to  get  into  line,  and  where  to  sally  forth  (he  never 
minded  these  directions,  however,  and  did  what  seemed 
good  to  him),  uncoupled  the  dogs,  arranged  the  leashes 
in  a  leisurely  manner,  mounted  his  horse,  and  disap- 
peared behind  the  young  birches.  The  first  thing  the 
hounds  did  on  being  released  was  to  express  their  joy 
by  wagging  their  tails,  shaking  themselves,  putting  them- 
selves in  order  ;  and  then,  after  a  little  scamper,  they 
smelled  each  other,  wagged  their  tails  again,  and  set 
off  in  various  directions. 

"  Have  you  a  handkerchief.^"  asked  papa. 

I  pulled  one  from  my  pocket  and  showed  it  to  him. 

"Well,  take  that  gray  dog  on  your  handkerchief....  " 

"  Zhiran  ?  "  I  inquired,  with  a  knowing  air. 

"Yes,  and  run  along  the  road.  When  you  come  to 
a  little  meadow,  stop  and  look  about  you ;  don't  come 
back  to  me  without  a  hare." 

I  wound  my  handkerchief  about  Zhiran's  shaggy  neck, 
and  started  at  a  headlong  pace  for  the  spot  indicated  to 
mt.     Papa  laughed  and  called  after  me  :  — 

"  Faster,  faster,  or  you  '11  be  too  late." 


CHILDHOOD  27 

Zhiran  kept  halting,  pricking  up  his  ears,  and  listen- 
ing to  the  galloping  of  the  huntsmen.  I  had  not  the 
strength  to  drag  him  from  the  spot,  and  I  began  to 
shout,  "  Catch  him !  catch  him  !  "  Then  Zhiran  tore 
away  with  such  force  that  I  could  hardly  hold  him,  and 
I  fell  down  more  than  once  before  I  reached  my  post. 
Selecting  a  shady  and  level  place  at  the  root  of  a  lofty 
oak,  I  lay  down  on  the  grass,  placed  Zhiran  beside  me, 
and  waited.  My  imagination,  as  always  happens  in  such 
cases,  far  outran  reality.  I  fancied  that  I  was  already 
coursing  my  third  hare,  when  the  first  hound  gave  tongue 
in  the  woods.  Turka's  voice  rang  loudly  and  with  ani- 
mation through  the  forest  ;  the  hound  was  whimpering, 
and  its  voice  was  more  and  more  frequently  audible. 
Another  voice,  a  bass,  joined  in,  then  a  third  and  a 
fourth.  These  voices  ceased,  and  again  they  inter- 
rupted each  other.  The  sounds  grew  gradually  louder 
and  more  unbroken,  and  at  length  merged  into  one  ring- 
ing, all-pervading  roar.  The  meadow-encircled  clump 
of  trees  was  one  mass  of  sound,  and  the  hounds  were 
burning  with  impatience. 

When  I  heard  that,  I  stiffened  at  my  post.  Fixing 
my  eyes  upon  the  edge  of  the  woods,  I  smiled  fool- 
ishly ;  the  perspiration  poured  from  me  in  streams,  and 
although  the  drops  tickled  me  as  they  ran  down  my 
chin,  I  did  not  wipe  them  off.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
nothing  could  be  more  decisive  than  this  moment.  This 
attitude  of  expectancy  was  too  unnatural  to  last  long. 
The  hounds  poured  into  the  edge  of  the  woods,  then 
they  retreated  from  me ;  there  was  no  hare.  I  began 
to  look  about.  Zhiran  was  in  the  same  state ;  at  first 
he  tugged  and  whimpered,  then  lay  down  beside  me, 
put  his  nose  upon  my  knees,  and  became  quiet. 

Around  the  bare  roots  of  the  oak  tree  under  which  I 
sat,  upon  the  gray,  parched  earth,  amid  the  withered  oak 
leaves,  acorns,  dry  moss-grown  sticks,  yellowish  green 
moss,  and  the  thin  green  blades  of  grass  which  pushed 
their  way  through  here  and  there,  ants  swarmed  in 
countless  numbers.  They  hurried  after  each  other  along 
the  beaten  paths  which  they  had  themselves  prepared. 


28  CHILDHOOD 

some  with  burdens,  some  unladen.  I  picked  up  a  dry 
stick,  and  obstructed  their  way  with  it.  You  should 
have  seen  how  some,  despising  danger,  climbed  over  it, 
while  others,  especially  those  who  had  loads,  quite  lost 
their  heads  and  did  not  know  what  to  do ;  they  halted, 
and  hunted  for  a  path  round  it,  or  turned  back,  or 
crawled  upon  my  hand  from  the  stick,  with  the  inten- 
tion, apparently,  of  getting  under  the  sleeve  of  my 
jacket.  I  was  diverted  from  these  interesting  observa- 
tions by  a  butterfly  with  yellow  wings,  which  hovered 
before  me  in  an  extremely  attractive  manner.  No 
sooner  had  I  directed  my  attention  to  it  than  it  flew 
away  a  couple  of  paces,  circled  about  a  nearly  wilted 
head  of  wild  white  clover,  and  alighted  upon  it.  I  do 
not  know  whether  it  was  warming  itself  in  the  sun,  or 
drawing  the  sap  from  this  weed,  but  it  was  evident  that 
it  was  enjoying  itself.  Now  and  then  it  fluttered  its 
wings  and  pressed  closer  to  the  flower,  and  at  last  be- 
came perfectly  still.  I  propped  my  head  on  both  hands 
and  gazed  at  it  with  pleasure. 

All  at  once,  Zhiran  began  to  howl,  and  tugged  with 
such  force  that  I  nearly  fell  over.  I  glanced  about. 
Along  the  skirt  of  the  woods  skipped  a  hare,  with  one 
ear  drooping,  the  other  raised.  The  blood  rushed  to 
my  head,  and,  forgetting  everything  for  the  moment,  I 
shouted  something  in  a  wild  voice,  loosed  my  dog,  and 
set  out  to  run.  But  no  sooner  had  I  done  this  than  my 
repentance  began.  The  hare  squatted,  gave  a  leap, 
and  I  saw  no  more  of  him. 

But  what  was  my  mortification,  when,  following  the 
hounds,  who  came  baying  down  to  the  edge  of  the 
woods,  Turka  made  his  appearartce  from  behind  a 
bush !  He  perceived  my  mistake  (which  consisted  in 
not  holding  out),  and,  casting  a  scornful  glance  upon 
me,  he  merely  said,  ''Eh,  bdrin  ! '' ^  But  you  should 
have  heard  how  he  said  it.  It  would  have  been  pleas- 
anter  for  me  if  he  had  hung  me  to  his  saddle  like  a 
hare. 

For  a  long  time  I  stood  in  deep  despair,  rooted  to  the 
1  Master. 


CHILDHOOD  29 

spot.     I  did  not  call  the  dog,  and  only  repeated  as  I 
beat  my  thighs,  "  Heavens,  what  have  I  done  !  " 

I  heard  the  hounds  coursing  in  the  distance ;  I  heard 
them  give  tongue  on  the  other  side  of  the  wood-island, 
and  kill  a  hare,  and  Turka  summoning  the  dogs  with 
his  long  whip ;  but  still  I  did  not  stir  from  the  spot. 


CHAPTER  Vni 

GAMES 

The  hunt  was  at  an  end.  A  cloth  was  spread  under 
the  shadow  of  the  young  birches,  and  the  whole  com- 
pany seated  themselves  around  it.  Gavrilo,  the  butler, 
having  trodden  down  the  lush  green  grass  about  him, 
wiped  the  plates,  and  emptied  the  baskets  of  the  plums 
and  peaches  wrapped  in  leaves.  The  sun  shone  through 
the  green  branches  of  the  young  birches,  and  cast 
round  quivering  gleams  upon  the  patterns  of  the  table- 
cloth, upon  my  feet,  and  even  upon  Gavrilo's  polished 
perspiring  head.  A  light  breeze  fluttering  through  the 
leaves,  upon  my  hair  and  my  streaming  face,  was  very 
refreshing. 

When  the  ices  and  fruits  had  been  distributed  to  us, 
there  was  nothing  more  to  be  done  at  the  cloth  ;  and  in 
spite  of  the  sun's  scorching,  oblique  rays,  we  rose  and 
began  to  play. 

"  Now,  what  shall  it  be  .''  "  said  Liubotchka,  blinking 
in  the  sun,  and  dancing  up  and  down  upon  the  grass. 
"  Let  us  have  Robinson  !  " 

"No,  it's  tiresome,"  said  Volodya,  rolling  lazily  on 
the  turf,  and  chewing  a  leaf  ;  "  it 's  eternally  Robinson  ! 
If  you  insist  upon  it,  though,  let's  build  an  arbor." 

Volodya  was  evidently  putting  on  airs ;  it  must  have 
been  because  he  was  proud  of  having  ridden  the  hunter, 
and  he  feigned  to  be  very  much  fatigued.  Possibly, 
also,  he  had  too  much  sound  sense,  and  too  little  force 
of  imagination,  fully  to  enjoy  a  game  of  Robinson.    This 


30  CHILDHOOD 

game  consisted  in  acting  a  scene  from  the  "  Robinson 
Suisse,"  ^  which  we  had  read  not  long  before. 

"  Now,  please  ....  why  won't  you  do  this  to  please 
us  ?  "  persisted  the  girls.  "  You  shall  be  Charles  or 
Ernest  or  the  father,  whichever  you  like,"  said  Katenka, 
trying  to  pull  him  from  the  ground  by  the  sleeves  of  his 
jacket. 

"  I  really  don't  want  to  ;  it's  tiresome,"  said  Volodya, 
stretching  himself,  and  smiling  in  a  self-satisfied  way. 

"  It 's  better  to  stay  at  home  if  nobody  wants  to  play," 
declared  Liubotchka,  through  her  tears. 

She  was  a  horrible  cry-baby. 

"  Come  along,  then  ;  only  please  don't  cr}^  I  can't 
stand  it." 

Volodya's  condescension  afforded  us  but  very  little 
satisfaction  ;  on  the  contrary,  his  bored  and  lazy  look 
destroyed  all  the  illusion  of  the  play.  When  we  sat 
down  on  the  ground,  and,  imagining  that  we  were  set- 
ting out  on  a  fishing  expedition,  began  to  row  with  all 
our  might,  Volodya  sat  with  folded  hands,  and  in  an 
attitude  which  had  nothing  in  common  with  the  attitude 
of  a  fisherman.  I  remarked  on  this  to  him ;  but  he  re- 
torted that  we  should  gain  nothing  and  do  no  good  by 
either  a  greater  or  less  flourish  of  hands,  and  should  not 
travel  any  farther.  I  involuntarily  agreed  with  him. 
When  I  made  believe  go  hunting  with  a  stick  on  my 
shoulder,  and  took  my  way  to  the  woods,  Volodya  lay 
down  flat  on  his  back,  with  his  hands  under  his  head, 
and  said  it  was  all  the  same  as  though  he  went,  too. 
Such  speeches  and  behavior  cooled  us  toward  this 
game,  and  were  extremely  unpleasant;  the  more  so  as 
it  was  impossible  not  to  admit  in  one's  own  mind  that 
Volodya  was  behaving  sensibly. 

I  knew  myself  that  not  only  could  I  not  kill  a  bird 
with  my  stick,  but  that  it  was  impossible  to  fire  it  off. 
That  was  what  the  game  consisted  in.  If  you  judge 
things  in  that  fashion,  then  it  is  impossible  to  ride  on 
chairs ;  but,  thought  I,  Volodya  himself  must  remember 
how,  on  long  winter  evenings,  we  covered  an  arm-chair 

1  "  The  Swiss  Family  Robinson." 


CHILDHOOD  31 

with  cloths,  and  made  a  calash  out  of  it,  while  one 
mounted  as  coachman,  the  other  as  footman,  and  the 
girls  sat  in  the  middle,  with  three  chairs  for  a  troika  of 
horses,  and  wc  set  out  on  a  journey.  And  how  many 
adventures  happened  on  the  way !  and  how  merrily  and 
swiftly  the  winter  evenings  passed !  Judging  by  the 
present  standard,  there  would  be  no  games.  And  if 
there  are  no  games,  what  is  left  ? 


CHAPTER   IX 

SOMETHING    IN    THE    NATURE    OF    FIRST    LOVE 

Pretendinc;  that  she  was  plucking  some  American 
fruits  from  a  tree,  Liubotchka  tore  off  a  leaf  with  a  huge 
caterpillar  on  it,  flung  it  on  the  ground  in  terror,  raised 
her  hands,  and  sprang  back  as  though  she  feared  that 
something  would  spout  out  of  it.  The  game  came  to 
an  end ;  we  all  flung  ourselves  down  on  the  ground  with 
our  heads  together,  to  gaze  at  this  curiosity. 

I  looked  over  Katenka's  shoulder ;  she  was  trying  to 
pick  the  worm  up  on  a  leaf  which  she  placed  in  its  way. 

I  had  observed  that  many  girls  have  a  trick  of  twist- 
ing their  shoulders,  endeavoring  by  this  movement  to 
bring  back  their  low-necked  dresses,  which  have  slipped 
down,  to  their  proper  place.  I  remember  that  this  mo- 
tion always  made  Mimi  angry  :  "  It  is  the  gesture  of  a 
chambermaid,"  she  said.  Katenka  made  this  motion 
as  she  bent  over  the  worm,  and  at  the  same  moment 
the  wind  raised  her  kerchief  from  her  white  neck.  Her 
little  shoulder  was  within  two  fingers'  length  of  my  lips. 
I  no  longer  looked  at  the  worm  ;  I  stared  and  stared  at 
Katenka's  shoulder,  and  kissed  it  with  all  my  might. 
She  did  not  turn  round,  but  I  noticed  that  her  cheeks 
crimsoned  up  to  her  very  ears.  Volodya  did  not  raise 
his  head,  but  said  scornfully  :  — 

"  What  tenderness  !  " 

The  tears  came  into  my  eyes. 

I   never  took  my  eyes  from  Katenka.     I   had  long 


32  CHILDHOOD 

been  used  to  her  fresh  little  blond  face,  and  I  had  al- 
ways loved  it.  But  now  I  began  to  observe  it  more 
attentively,  and  I  liked  it  still  better.  When  we  went 
back  to  the  grown-up  people,  papa  announced,  to  our 
great  joy,  that,  at  mamma's  request,  our  departure  was 
postponed  until  the  following  day. 

Wc  rode  back  in  company  with  the  carriage.  Volodya 
and  I,  desirous  of  outdoing  each  other  in  the  art  of 
horsemanship  and  in  boldness,  pranced  around  it.  My 
shadow  was  longer  than  before,  and,  judging  from  it,  I 
imagined  that  I  must  present  the  effect  of  a  very  fine 
rider ;  but  the  feeling  of  self-satisfaction  which  I  ex- 
perienced was  speedily  destroyed  by  the  following  cir- 
cumstance. Desiring  completely  to  fascinate  all  who 
rode  in  the  carriage,  I  fell  behind  a  little ;  then,  with 
the  assistance  of  my  whip  and  my  feet,  I  started  my 
horse  forward,  and  assumed  an  attitude  of  careless 
grace,  with  the  intention  of  dashing  past  them  like  a 
whirlwind  on  the  side  where  Katcnka  sat.  The  only 
point  I  was  in  doubt  about  was  :  Would  it  be  better  to 
gallop  by  in  silence,  or  to  cry  out .-'  But  the  hateful 
horse  came  to  a  standstill  so  unexpectedly  when  he 
came  up  with  the  carriage-horses,  that  I  flew  over  the 
saddle  upon  his  neck,  and  almost  tumbled  off  his  back. 


CHAPTER   X 

WHAT    KIND    OF    A    MAN    MY    FATHER    WAS 

He  was  a  man  of  the  last  century,  and  possessed 
that  indefinable  chivalry  of  character,  enterprise,  self- 
confidence,  amiability,  and  rakishness  which  was  com- 
mon to  the  youth  of  that  period.  He  looked  with 
disdain  upon  the  people  of  the  present  century  ;  and 
this  view  proceeded  quite  as  much  from  innate  pride  as 
from  a  secret  feeling  of  vexation  that  he  could  not  wield 
that  influence  or  enjoy  those  successes  in  our  age  which 
he  had  enjoyed  in  his  own.  His  two  principal  passions 
in  life  were  cards  and  women  :  he  had  won  several  mill 


CHILDHOOD  S2 

ions  during  his  lifetime,  and  had  had  liaisons  with  an 
innumerable  number  of  women  of  all  classes. 

A  tall,  stately  figure,  a  strange,  tripping  gait,  a  habit 
of  shrugging  his  shoulders,  little  eyes  which  were  always 
smiling,  a  large  aquiline  nose,  irregular  lips  which  closed 
awkwardly  but  agreeably,  a  defect  in  speech,  a  lisp, 
and  a  large  bald  spot  extending  all  over  his  head  —  such 
was  my  father's  appearance  from  the  time  I  first  recol- 
lect him,  —  an  appearance  by  means  of  which  he  not 
only  managed  to  make  the  reputation  of  a  man  a  bonnes 
fortunes,  but  to  be  so  and  to  please  every  one  without 
exception,  —  people  of  all  classes  and  conditions,  and 
especially  those  whom  he  desired  to  please. 

He  understood  how  to  get  the  upper  hand  in  all  his 
dealings.  Without  ever  having  been  a  member  of  the 
very  highest  society,  he  had  always  had  intercourse  with 
individuals  belonging  to  that  circle,  and  of  such  a  sort 
that  he  was  always  respected.  He  understood  that 
extreme  measure  of  pride  and  self-confidence  which, 
without  offending  others,  raised  him  in  the  estimation 
of  the  world.  He  was  original,  though  not  always, 
and  employed  his  originality  as  an  instrument  which  in 
some  cases  takes  the  place  of  worldly  wisdom  or  wealth. 
Nothing  in  the  world  could  arouse  in  him  a  sensation 
of  wonder :  however  brilliant  his  position,  he  seemed 
born  to  it.  He  understood  so  well  how  to  hide  from 
others,  and  put  away  from  himself,  that  dark  side  of 
life  which  is  familiar  to  gvery  one,  and  filled  with  petty 
vexations  and  griefs,  that  it  was  impossible  not  to  envy 
him. 

He  was  a  connoisseur  of  all  things  which  afford  com- 
fort or  pleasure,  and  understood  how  to  make  use  of 
them.  His  hobby  was  his  brilliant  connections,  which 
he  possessed  partly  through  my  mother's  relations  and 
partly  through  the  companions  of  his  youth,  with  whom 
he  was  secretly  enraged,  because  they  had  all  risen  to 
high  oflficial  positions,  while  he  had  remained  only  a 
retired  lieutenant  in  the  Guards.  Like  all  men  who 
have  once  been  in  the  army,  he  did  not  know  how  to 
dress  fashionably  ;  nevertheless,  his  dress  was  original 


34  CHILDHOOD 

and  elegant.  His  clothes  were  always  very  loose  and 
light,  his  linen  of  the  most  beautiful  quality,  his  large 
cuffs  and  collars  were  turned  back.  And  it  all  suited 
his  tall  figure,  his  muscular  build,  his  bald  head,  and  his 
calm,  self-confident  movements.  He  was  sensitive,  and 
even  easily  moved  to  tears.  Often,  when  he  came  to  a 
pathetic  place  while  reading  aloud,  his  voice  would  begin 
to  tremble,  the  tears  would  come ;  and  he  would  drop 
the  book  in  vexation.  He  loved  music,  and  sang,  to  his 
own  piano  accompaniment,  the  romances  of  his  friend  A., 
gipsy  songs,  and  some  airs  from  the  operas ;  but  he  did 
not  like  scientific  music,  and  said  frankly,  without  heed- 
ing the  general  opinion,  that  Beethoven's  sonatas  drove 
him  to  sleep  and  ciinui ;  and  that  he  knew  nothing  finer 
than  "Wake  the  young  girl  not,"  as  sung  by  Madame 
Semenoff,  and  "  Not  alone,"  as  gipsy  Taniuscha  sang 
it.  His  nature  was  one  of  those  to  whose  good  deeds 
a  public  is  indispensable.  And  he  only  considered  that 
good  which  was  so  reckoned  by  the  public.  God  knows 
whether  he  had  any  moral  convictions.  His  life  was  so 
full  of  passions  of  every  sort,  that  he  never  had  any 
time  to  make  an  inventory  of  them,  and  he  was  so 
happy  in  his  life  that  he  saw  no  necessity  for  so  doing. 

A  fixed  opinion  on  things  generally,  and  unalterable 
principles,  formulated  themselves  in  his  mind  as  he  grew 
older  —  but  solely  on  practical  grounds.  Those  deeds 
and  that  manner  of  life  which  procured  him  happiness 
and  pleasure,  he  considered  gopd ;  and  he  thought  that 
every  one  should  always  do  the  same.  He  was  a  very 
delightful  talker;  and  this  quality,  it  seems  to  me, 
heightened  the  flexibility  of  his  principles :  he  was 
capable  of  depicting  the  same  act  as  a  charming  bit 
of  mischief,  or  as  a  piece  of  low-lived  villainy. 


CHILDHOOD  35 


CHAPTER   XI 

OCCUPATIONS    IN    THE    STUDY    AND    THE    DRAWING-ROOM 

It  was  already  dusk  when  \vc  reached  home.  Mamma 
seated  herself  at  the  piano,  and  we  children  fetched  our 
paper,  pencils,  and  paints,  and  settled  ourselves  about 
the  round  table  at  our  drawing.  I  had  only  blue  paint  ; 
nevertheless,  I  undertook  to  depict  the  hunt.  After 
representing,  in  very  lively  style,  a  blue  boy  mounted 
on  a  blue  horse,  and  some  blue  dogs,  I  was  not  quite 
sure  whether  I  could  paint  a  blue  hare,  and  ran  to  papa 
in  his  study  to  take  advice  on  the  matter.  Papa  was 
reading;  and,  in  answer  to  my  question,  "Are  there 
any  blue  hares  ? "  he  said,  without  raising  his  head, 
"  Yes,  my  dear,  there  are."  I  went  back  to  the  round 
table,  and  painted  a  blue  hare  ;  then  I  found  it  necessary 
to  turn  the  blue  hare  into  a  bush.  The  bush  did  not 
please  me  either  ;  I  turned  it  into  a  tree,  and  the  tree 
into  a  stack  of  hay,  and  the  haystack  into  a  cloud ;  and 
finally  I  blotted  my  whole  paper  so  with  blue  paint,  that 
I  tore  it  up  in  vexation,  and  went  off  to  doze  on  the 
long  sofa-chair. 

Mamma  was  playing  the  Second  Concerto  of  Field  — 
her  teacher.  I  dreamed,  and  light,  bright,  transparent 
recollections  penetrated  my  imagination.  She  played 
Beethoven's  Sonata  Pathetique,  and  my  memories  be- 
came painful,  dark,  burdensome.  Mamma  often  played 
those  two  pieces  ;  therefore  I  well  remember  the  feeling 
which  they  aroused  in  me.  It  resembled  memories  ;  but 
memories  of  what .''  I  seemed  to  remember  something 
which  had  never  happened. 

Opposite  me  was  the  door  into  the  study,  and  I  saw 
Yakoff  enter,  and  some  other  people  with  kaftans  and 
beards.  The  door  immediately  closed  behind  them. 
"  Now  business  has  begun  !  "  I  thought.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  nothing  in  the  world  could  be  more  important 
than  the  business  which  was  being  transacted  in  that 
study ;  this  idea  of  mine  was  confirmed  by  the  fact  that 


1,6  CHILDHOOD 

all  who  entered  the  study  door  generally  did  so  on  tip' 
toe  and  exchanging  whispers.  Papa's  loud  voice  was 
audible  ;  and  the  smell  of  cigars,  which  always  attracted 
me  very  much,  I  know  not  why,  was  perceptible.  All 
at  once,  I  was  much  surprised  in  my  half  slumber  by 
the  familiar  squeak  of  boots  in  the  butler's  pantry. 
Karl  Ivanitch  walked  up  to  the  door  on  tiptoe,  but  with 
a  gloomy  and  decided  countenance,  and  some  papers  in 
his  hand,  and  knocked  lightly.  He  was  admitted,  and 
the  door  was  slammed  again. 

"  Some  misfortune  must  have  happened,"  I  thought. 
"  Karl  Ivanitch  is  angry;  he  is  ready  for  anything." 

And  again  I  fell  into  a  doze. 

But  no  misfortune  had  occurred.  In  about  an  hour, 
the  same  squeaking  boots  woke  me  up.  Karl  Ivanitch 
emerged  from  the  door,  wiping  away  the  tears  which  I 
espied  on  his  cheeks,  with  his  handkerchief,  and  went 
up-stairs,  muttering  something  to  himself.  Papa  came 
out  after  him,  and  entered  the  drawing-room. 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  have  just  decided  upon .'' " 
he  said  in  a  gay  voice,  laying  his  hand  on  mamma's 
shoulder. 

"What  is  it,  my  dear  }  " 

"  I  shall  take  Karl  Ivanitch  with  the  children.  There 
is  room  for  him  in  the  britchka.  They  are  used  to  him, 
and  it  seems  that  he  is  very  much  attached  to  them ; 
and  seven  hundred  rubles  a  year  does  not  count  for 
much  :  and  then  he  is  a  very  good  sort  of  fellow  at 
bottom."  1 

I  could  not  in  the  least  understand  why  papa  called 
Karl  Ivanitch  names. 

"  I  am  very  glad,"  said  mamma,  "  both  for  the  chil- 
dren's sake  and  for  his;  he  is  a  fine  old  fellow." 
,  "  If  you  could  only  have  seen  how  much  affected  he 
was  when  I  told  him  that  he  was  to  keep  the  five  hun- 
dred rubles  as  a  gift !  But  the  most  amusing  thing  of 
all  is  this  account  which  he  brought  me.  It 's  worth  look- 
ing at,"  he  added,  with  a  smile,  handing  her  a  list  in 
Karl  Ivanitch's  handwriting;   "it  is  delightful." 

^  "  —  et puis,  au  fond,  c^est  un  Ires  bon  diable." 


CHILDHOOD  37 

This  was  what  the  list  contained  :  — 

"  Two  fish-hooks  for  the  children,  seventy  kopeks. 

"Colored  paper,  gold  binding,  a  syringe  and  jumping- 
jack,  for  a  little  box  for  a  present,  six  rubles  fifty-five 
kopeks. 

"  Books  and  bows,  presents  to  the  children,  eight 
rubles  sixteen  kopeks. 

"Trousers  for  Nikolai",  four  rubles. 

"The  gold  watch  promised  by  Piotr  Alexandrovitch, 
to  be  got  from  Moscow  in  i8 — ,  one  hundred  and  forty 
rubles. 

"  Total  due  Karl  Mauer,  above  his  salary,  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty-nine  rubles  seventy-nine  kopeks." 

After  reading  this  list,  in  which  Karl  Ivanitch  de- 
manded payment  of  all  the  sums  which  he  had  ex- 
pended for  presents,  and  even  the  price  of  the  gifts 
promised  to  himself,  any  one  would  think  that  Karl 
Ivanitch  was  nothing  more  than  an  unfeeling,  covetous 
egoist  —  and  he  would  be  very  much  mistaken. 

When  he  entered  the  study  with  this  account  in  his 
hand,  and  a  speech  ready  prepared  in  his  head,  he  in- 
tended to  set  forth  eloquently  before  papa  all  the  injus- 
tice that  he  had  endured  in  our  house ;  but  when  he 
began  to  speak  in  that  touching  voice,  and  with  the 
feeling  intonations  which  he  usually  employed  when 
dictating  to  us,  his  eloquence  acted  most  powerfully  on 
himself ;  so  that  when  he  reached  the  place  where  he 
said,  "Painful  as  it  is  to  me  to  part  from  the  children," 
he  became  utterly  confused,  his  voice  trembled,  and  he 
was  forced  to  pull  his  checked  handkerchief  from  his 
pocket. 

"Yes,  Piotr  Alexandritch,"  he  said,  through  his  tears 
(this  passage  did  not  occur  in  the  prepared  speech),  "  I 
have  become  so  used  to  the  children,  that  I  do  not  know 
what  I  shall  do  without  them.  It  will  be  better  for  me 
to  serve  you  without  salary,"  he  added,  wiping  away  his 
tears  with  one  hand,  and  presenting  the  bill  with  the 
other. 

That  Karl  Ivanitch  was  sincere  when  he  spoke  thus, 
I  can  affirm  with  authority,  for  I  know  his  kind  heart 


38  CHILDHOOD 

but  how  he  reconciled  that  account  with  his  words 
remains  a  mystery  to  me. 

"  If  it  is  painful  for  you,  it  would  be  still  more  painful 
for  me  to  part  with  you,"  said  papa,  tapping  him  on  the 
shoulder.     "  I  have  changed  my  mind." 

Not  long  before  supper  Grischa  entered  the  room. 
From  the  moment  he  had  come  to  the  house,  he  had 
not  ceased  to  sigh  and  weep ;  which,  according  to  the 
opinion  of  those  who  believed  in  his  power  of  prophecy, 
presaged  some  evil  to  our  house.  He  began  to  take 
leave,  and  said  that  he  should  proceed  farther  the  next 
morning.     I  winked  at  Volodya,  and  went  out. 

"What  is  it.!"" 

"  If  you  want  to  see  Grischa's  chains,  let 's  go  up- 
.stairs  to  the  men's  rooms  immediately.  Grischa  sleeps 
in  the  second  chamber.  We  can  sit  in  the  garret  per- 
fectly well,  and  see  everything." 

"  Splendid  !     Wait  here  ;   I  '11  call  the  girls." 

The  girls  ran  out,  and  we  betook  ourselves  up-stairs. 
It  was  settled,  not  without  some  disputing,  however, 
who  was  to  go  first  into  the  dark  garret ;  and  we  sat 
down  and  waited. 


CHAPTER   XII 

GRISCHA 

The  darkness  oppressed  all  of  us ;  we  pressed  close 
to  each  other,  and  did  not  speak.  Grischa  followed  us 
almost  immediately,  with  his  quiet  steps.  In  one  hand 
he  carried  his  staff,  in  the  other  a  tallow  candle  in  a 
brass  candlestick.     We  held  our  breaths. 

"  Lord  Jesus  Christ !  Most  Holy  Mother  of  God  ! 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost !  "  he  repeated  several 
times,  with  various  intonations  and  abbreviations  which 
are  peculiar  to  those  only  who  repeat  these  words  often, 
as  he  drew  the  air  into  his  lungs. 

Having  placed  his  staff  in  the  corner,  and  inspected 
his  bed  during  his  prayer,  he  began  to  undress.     He 


CHILDHOOD  39 

unfastened  his  old  black  belt,  removed  his  tattered  nan- 
keen smock,  folded  it  carefully,  and  laid  it  over  the  back 
of  a  chair.  His  face  did  not  now  express  haste  and 
stupidity,  as  usual ;  on  the  contrary,  it  was  composed, 
melancholy,  and  even  majestic.  His  movements  were 
deliberate  and  thoughtful. 

Clad  in  his  underclothes  alone,  he  sank  gently  down 
upon  the  bed,  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  over  it  on  all 
sides,  and  with  an  evident  effort  (for  he  frowned)  he 
adjusted  the  chains  beneath  his  shirt.  After  sitting 
there  awhile  and  anxiously  examining  several  rents  in 
his  linen,  he  rose,  lifted  the  candlestick  on  a  level  with 
the  shrine  in  the  corner,  which  contained  several  im-' 
ages,  repeating  a  prayer  meantime,  crossed  himself 
before  them,  and  turned  the  candle  upside  down.  It 
sputtered  and  w^ent  out. 

The  moon,  which  was  almost  full,  shone  in  through 
the  window,  looking  toward  the  forest.  The  long 
white  figure  of  the  fool  was  illuminated  on  one  side  by 
the  pale,  silvery  rays  of  the  moon  :  on  the  other  it  was 
in  deep  obscurity ;  his  shadow  fell  on  the  floor  and 
walls,  and  reached  to  the  ceiling  in  company  with  the 
shadows  from  the  window-frame.  The  watchman  beat 
on  the  copper  plate  in  the  courtyard. 

Grischa  folded  his  huge  arms  across  his  breast,  bent 
his  head,  sighing  heavily,  and  without  intermission,  and 
stood  in  silence  before  the  images ;  then  he  knelt,  with 
difficulty,  and  began  to  pray. 

At  first  he  softly  recited  the  familiar  prayers,  merely 
accentuating  certain  words;  then  he  repeated  them,  but 
in  a  loud  voice,  and  with  much  animation.  He  began 
to  employ  his  own  words,  endeavoring,  with  evident 
effort,  to  express  himself  in  Slavic.  His  words  were 
incoherent  but  touching.  He  prayed  for  all  his  bene- 
factors (as  he  called  those  who  entertained  him),  among 
them  mamma  and  U3 ;  he  prayed  for  himself,  besought 
God  to  forgive  him  his  grievous  sins,  and  said  :  "  O  God, 
forgive  my  enemies !  "  He  rose  with  a  groan,  and,  re- 
peating the  same  words  over  and  over,  he  fell  to  the 
ground    again,    and    agaiii    rose,    notwithstanding    the 


40  CHILDHOOD 

weight  of  the  chains,  which  emitted  a  harsh,  sharp 
sound  as  they  struck  the  floor. 

Volodya  gave  me  a  painful  pinch  on  my  leg,  but  I 
did  not  even  look  round ;  I  merely  rubbed  the  spot 
with  one  hand,  and  continued  to  observe  all  Grischa's 
words  and  motions  with  a  sentiment  of  childish  wonder, 
pity,  and  reverence. 

Instead  of  the  merriment  and  laughter  upon  which  I 
had  reckoned  when  I  entered  the  garret,  I  felt  a  trem- 
bling and  sinking  at  my  heart. 

Grischa  remained  in  this  state  of  religious  exaltation 
for  a  long  time,  and  improvised  prayers.  He  repeated 
"  Lord,  have  mercy ^'  several  times  in  succession,  but 
each  time  with  fresh  force  and  expression.  Then  he 
said  :  "  Forgive  vie,  Lord ;  teach  nie  zvhat  I  should  do  ; 
teach  nie  what  I  should  do,  Lord l''  with  an  expression 
as  though  he  expected  an  immediate  response  to  his 
words ;  then  several  lamentable  groans  were  audible. 
He  rose  to  his  knees,  crossed  his  hands  upon  his  breast, 
and  became  silent. 

I  put  my  head  softly  out  of  the  door,  and  held  my 
breath.  Grischa  did  not  stir  ;  heavy  sighs  forced  them- 
selves from  his  breast ;  a  tear  stood  in  the  dim  pupil  of 
his  blind  eye,  which  was  illuminated  by  the  moon. 

"  Thy  will  be  done  !  "  he  cried  suddenly,  with  an  inde- 
scribable expression,  fell  with  his  forehead  to  the  floor, 
and  sobbed  like  a  child. 

A  long  time  has  passed  since  then  ;  many  memories 
of  the  past  have  lo.st  all  significance  for  me,  and  have 
become  like  confused  visions;  even  pilgrim  Grischa  has 
long  ago  taken  his  last  journey :  but  the  impression 
which  he  made  upon  me,  and  the  feeling  which  he 
awakened,  will  never  die  out  of  my  memory. 

O  great  Christian  Grischa  !  Thy  faith  was  so  strong, 
that  thou  didst  feel  the  nearness  of  God  ;  thy  love  was 
so  great,  that  thy  words  poured  from  thy  lips  of  them- 
selves, —  thou  didst  not  revise  them  with  thy  judgment. 
And  what  lofty  praise  didst  thou  offer  to  His  majesty, 
when,  finding  no  words,  thou  didst  fling  thyself  to  the 
earth  in  tears ! 


CHILDHOOD  41 

The  emotion  with  which  I  hstened  to  Grischa  could 
not  last  long ;  in  the  first  place,  because  my  curiosity 
was  satisfied,  and,  in  the  second,  because  my  legs  were 
stiff  with  sitting  in  one  position,  and  I  wanted  to  join  in 
the  general  whispering  and  movement  which  was  audible 
behind  me  in  the  dark  garret.  Some  one  caught  my 
hand,  and  said,  "  Whose  hand  is  this  ? "  It  was  per- 
fectly dark,  but  I  immediately  recognized  Katcnka  by 
the  touch  of  the  hand,  and  by  the  voice  which  was  just 
above  my  ear. 

It  was  quite  without  premeditation  that  I  grasped  her 
arm,  on  which  the  sleeve  reached  only  to  the  elbow,  and 
pressed  my  lips  to  it.  Katenka  was  evidently  surprised, 
at  this,  and  pulled  her  hand  away  ;  this  movement  caused 
her  to  strike  a  broken  chair  which  stood  in  the  garret. 
Grischa  raised  his  head,  glanced  quietly  about,  repeat- 
ing a  prayer,  and  began  to  make  the  sign  of  the  cross 
on  all  the  corners.  We  ran  out  of  the  garret  whisper- 
ing, and  making  a  great  commotion. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

NATALYA    SAVISCHNA 

About  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  a  plump,  red- 
cheeked,  barefooted,  but  merry  girl,  Nataschka,  used  to 
run  about  the  courtyard  in  the  village  of  Khabarovka  in 
a  tattered  dress.  My  grandfather  had  taken  her  upstairs 
as  one  of  grandmother's  female  servants,  on  account  of 
the  services  of  her  father  Savva,  the  clarinet  player,  and 
at  his  request.  Nataschka,  as  a  maid,  was  distinguished 
for  her  gentleness  of  nature  and  her  zeal.  When 
mamma  was  born,  and  a  nurse  was  required,  this  service 
was  intrusted  to  NatascJika ;  and  in  this  new  career  she 
won  both  praises  and  rewards  for  her  activity,  faithful- 
ness, and  attachment  to  her  young  mistress. 

But  the  powdered  head,  stockings,  and  buckles  of  the 
dashing  young  majordomo  Foka,  who,  in  virtue  of  his 
office,  was  often  brought  in  contact  with  Natalya,  capti- 


42  CHILDHOOD 

vated  her  rough  but  loving  heart.  She  even  made  up 
her  mind  to  go  herself  to  grandfather,  and  ask  permission 
to  marry  Foka.  Grandfather  looked  upon  her  request 
as  ingratitude,  turned  her  away,  and  sent  poor  Natalya 
to  the  cattle-yard,  in  a  village  of  the  steppe,  to  punish 
her.  But  within  six  months  Natalya  was  restored  to  her 
former  duty,  since  no  one  could  fill  her  place.  On  re- 
turning from  banishment,  she  entered  grandfather's 
presence,  threw  herself  at  his  feet,  and  besought  him  to 
restore  her  to  favor  and  affection,  and  to  forget  the  folly 
which  had  come  upon  her,  and  to  which  she  swore  not 
to  return.     And  she  kept  her  word. 

From  that  day  Nataschka  became  Natalya  Savischna, 
and  wore  a  cap.  All  the  treasures  of  love  which  she 
possessed  she  transferred  to  her  young  mistress. 

When,  later  on,  a  governess  replaced  her  with  mamma, 
she  received  the  keys  of  the  storehouse,  and  all  the  linen 
and  provisions  were  given  into  her  charge.  She  fulfilled 
these  new  duties  with  the  same  love  and  zeal.  Her 
whole  life  was  devoted  to  the  welfare  of  her  master  and 
mistress ;  she  saw  waste,  ruin,  robbery,  on  every  side, 
and  endeavored  by  every  means  in  her  power  to  coun- 
teract them. 

When  mamma  married,  desiring  in  some  way  to  show 
her  gratitude  to  Natalya  Savischna  for  her  labor  and 
attachment  of  twenty  years,  she  had  her  summoned  ; 
and,  expressing  in  the  most  flattering  terms  all  her  love 
and  obligations,  she  handed  her  a  sheet  of  stamped 
paper,  which  declared  that  Natalya  Savischna  was  a 
free  woman  ;  and  she  said  that  whether  the  latter  should 
continue  to  serve  in  our  house  or  not,  she  would  always 
receive  a  yearly  pension  of  three  hundred  rubles.  Natalya 
Savischna  listened  to  all  this  in  silence  ;  then,  taking  the 
document  in  her  own  hands,  she  looked  angrily  at  it, 
muttered  something  between  her  lips,  and  flew  out  of 
the  room,  slamming  the  door  behind  her.  Not  under- 
standing the  cause  of  this  strange  behavior,  mamma, 
after  waiting  a  little,  went  to  Natalya's  room.  The 
latter  was  sitting  on  her  chest,  with  tear-swollen  eyes, 
twisting  her  handkerchief  in  her  fingers,  and  intently 


CHILDHOOD 


43 


regarding  the  tattered  fragments  of  her  emancipation 
paper,  which  were  scattered  over  the  floor  before 
her. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  dearest  Natalya  Savischna  ? " 
asked  mamma,  taking  her  hand. 

"Nothing,  matushka,"^  she  replied.  "I  must  be 
repulsive  to  you  in  some  way,  that  you  drive  me  from 
the  house.     Well,  I  will  go." 

She  pulled  away  her  hand,  and,  with  difficulty  re- 
straining her  tears,  she  made  g.  motion  to  leave  the 
room.  Mamma  detained  her,  embraced  her,  and  they 
both  wept  in  company. 

From  the  time  when  I  can  recollect  anything,  I  re- 
member  Natalya  Savischna,  her  love  and  caresses ;  but 
only  now  am  I  able  to  appreciate  their  worth,  —  but 
then  it  never  entered  my  mind  to  think  what  a  rare 
and  wonderful  being  that  old  woman  was.  Not  only 
did  she  never  speak,  but  she  seemed  never  even  to 
think,  of  herself ;  her  whole  life  was  love  and  self- 
sacrifice.  I  was  so  accustomed  to  her  tender,  unselfish 
love  for  us,  that  I  did  not  even  imagine  that  it  could  be 
otherwise  ;  was  not  in  the  least  grateful  to  her,  and  never 
asked  myself.  Is  she  happy  .-^    Is  she  content.'' 

Sometimes,  under  the  plea  of  imjjerative  necessity,  I 
would  run  away  from  my  lessons  to  her  room,  and  begin 
to  dream  aloud,  not  in  the  least  embarrassed  by  her 
presence.  She  was  always  busy  over  something ;  she 
was  either  knitting  a  stocking,  or  turning  over  the 
chests  with  which  her  room  was  filled,  or  taking  account 
of  the  linen,  and  listening  to  all  the  nonsense  which  I 
uttered ;  how,  "  when  I  got  to  be  a  general,  I  would 
marry  a  wonderful  beauty,  buy  myself  a  sorrel  horse, 
build  a  glass  house,  and  send  for  all  Karl  Ivanitch's 
relatives  from  Saxony,"  and  so  on;  she  would  say, 
"Yes,  batiushka,^  yes."  Generally,  when  I  rose  and 
prepared  to  take  my  departure,  she  opened  a  blue 
chest,  —  on  the  inside  of  whose  cover,  as  I  now  re- 
member,  there  were  pasted  a  picture  of  a  hussar,  a 

1  Little  mother  ;   a  term  of  endearment. 
*  Little  father,  my  dear. 


44  CHILDHOOD 

picture  from  a  pomade-box,  and  a  drawing  by  Volodya, 

—  and  took  from  it  a  stick  of  incense,  lighted  it,  and 
said,  as  she  waved  it  about :  — 

"  This,  my  dear,  is  OtcJiakoff,  incense.  When  your 
late  grandfather  —  may  the  kingdom  of  heaven  be  his! 

—  went  against  the  Turks,  he  brought  this  back.     This 
is  the  last  bit,"  she  added,  with  a  sigh. 

Positively,  there  was  everything  in  the  chests  with 
which  her  room  was  filled.  Whatever  was  needed,  the 
cry  always  was,  "  We  must  ask  Natalya  Savischna ; " 
and,  in  fact,  she  always  found  the  article  required,  after 
a  little  rummaging,  and  said,  "  It 's  well  that  I  hid  it 
away."  In  those  chests  were  thousands  of  things 
which  nobody  in  the  house,  except  herself,  ever  knew 
or  troubled  themselves  about. 

Once  I  was  angry  with  her.  This  is  how  it  was.  I 
dropped  the  decanter  when  I  was  pouring  myself  some 
kvas  at  dinner,  and  spilled  it  on  the  table-cloth. 

"  Call  Natalya  Savischna,  that  she  may  take  pride  in 
her  favorite,"  said  mamma. 

Natalya  Savischna  came,  and,  on  seeing  the  puddle 
which  I  had  made,  she  shook  her  head ;  then  mamma 
whispered  something  in  her  ear,  and  she  went  out, 
shaking  her  finger  at  me. 

After  dinner,  I  was  on  my  way  to  the  hall,  and  skip- 
ping about  in  the  most  cheerful  frame  of  mind,  when, 
all  at  once,  Natalya  Savischna  sprang  out  from  behind 
the  door,  with  the  table-cloth  in  her  hand,  caught  me, 
and,  in  spite  of  desperate  resistance  on  my  part,  began 
to  rub  my  face  with  the  wet  place,  crying,  "  Don't  spot 
the  table-cloth,  don't  spot  the  table-cloth  !  "  I  was  so 
offended  that  I  roared  with  rage. 

"What!  "  I  said  to  myself,  as  I  walked  up  and  down 
the  room  and  gulped  down  my  tears,  "  Natalya  Sa- 
vischna, plain  Natalya,  calls  me  '  thou,'  and  strikes  me  in 
the  face  with  a  wet  table-cloth  to  boot,  as  if  I  were  a 
servant-boy  !     This  is  horrible  !  " 

When  Natalya  Savischna  saw  that  I  was  gasping 
with  rage,  she  immediately  ran  off,  and  I  went  on  pac- 
ing to  and  fro,  and  meditating  how  I  might  pay  off  that 


CHILDHOOD  45 

impudent  Natalya  for  the  insult  which  she  had  inflicted 
on  me. 

In  a  few  minutes  Natalya  Savischna  returned,  ap- 
proached mc  timidly,  and  began  to  exhort  me. 

"  Enough,  my  dear,  don't  cry.  Forgive  me,  I  was 
foolish.  I  am  in  the  wrong.  You  will  forgive  me,  my 
dove.     Here,  this  is  for  you." 

From  beneath  her  kerchief  she  drew  a  horn  of  red 
paper,  in  which  were  two  caramels  and  one  grape,  and 
gave  it  to  me  with  a  trembling  hand.  I  had  not  the 
strength  to  look  the  good  old  woman  in  the  face ;  I 
turned  away,  took  her  gift,  and  my  tears  flowed  still 
more  abundantly,  but  from  love  and  shame  now,  and 
no  longer  from  anger. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

PARTING 

At  twelve  o'clock  on  the  day  following  the  events 
which  I  have  described,  the  calash  and  britchka  stood 
at  the  door.  Nikolai'  was  dressed  for  traveling ;  that 
is  to  say,  his  trousers  were  tucked  into  his  boots,  and 
his  old  coat  was  very  closely  belted.  He  stood  by  the 
britchka,  packing  the  overcoats  and  cushions  under  the 
seat ;  when  the  pile  seemed  to  him  too  high,  he  seated 
himself  on  the  cushions,  jumped  up  and  down,  and  flat- 
tened them. 

"  Do  me  an  unutterable  favor,  Nikolai  Dmitritch ; 
can't  we  put  the  master's  strong  box  in  ? "  said  papa's 
panting  valet,  leaning  out  of  the  calash;  "it  is  small." 

"You  should  have  said  so  before,  Mikhei  Ivanitch," 
answered  Nikolai,  quickly  and  angrily,  flinging  a  parcel 
with  all  his  might  on  the  floor  of  the  britchka.  "  O 
Lord,  my  head  is  going  round,  and  here  you  come  with 
your  box !  "  he  added,  pulling  off  his  cap,  and  wiping 
the  big  drops  of  perspiration  from  his  burning  brow. 

Men-servants  in  coats,  kaftans,  shirts,  without  hats, 
women  in  striped  petticoats  and   striped  dresses,  with 


46  CHILDHOOD 

children  in  their  arms,  and  barefooted  children  stood 
about  the  steps,  stared  at  the  equipages,  and  talked 
among  themselves.  One  of  the  post-boys  —  a  bent  old 
man  in  a  winter  cap  and  armyak  —  held  in  his  hand 
the  pole  of  the  calash,  moved  it  back  and  forth,  and 
thoughtfully  surveyed  its  action  ;  the  other,  a  good-look- 
ing young  fellow,  clad  only  in  a  white  shirt  with  shoul- 
der-gussets of  red  kumatch,^  and  a  conical  black  felt 
cap,  which  he  tilted  first  over  one  ear  and  then  over  the 
other  as  he  scratched  his  blond  curls,  placed  his  long 
coat  on  the  box,  flung  the  reins  there  also,  and,  cracking 
his  braided  knout,  gazed  now  at  his  boots,  now  at  the 
coachmen  who  were  greasing  the  britchka.  One  of 
them,  after  having  finished  his  labors,  was  straining 
himself  and  holding  the  steps ;  another  was  bending 
over  the  wheel,  and  carefully  greasing  axle  and  box, 
and  even  smearing  it  from  below  in  a  circle,  in  order 
that  the  oil  upon  his  cloth  might  not  be  wasted.  The 
broken-down  post-horses  of  various  colors  stood  at  the 
fence,  and  brushed  away  the  flies  with  their  tails.  Some 
of  them  planted  their  shaggy,  swollen  legs  far  apart, 
closed  their  eyes,  and  dozed  ;  some  scratched  each  other 
from  ennui,  or  nipped  the  fronds  and  stalks  of  the 
harsh,  dark  green  ferns  which  grew  beside  the  porch. 
Several  greyhounds  breathed  heavily  as  they  lay  in 
the  sun  ;  others  got  into  the  shade  beneath  the  calash 
and  britchka,  and  licked  the  tallow  around  the  axles. 
The  whole  atmosphere  was  filled  with  a  kind  of  dusty 
mist ;  the  horizon  was  of  a  grayish  lilac  hue,  but  there 
was  not  so  much  as  a  tiny  cloud  in  the  sky.  The  strong 
west  wind  raised  pillars  of  dust  from  the  roads  and  fields, 
bent  the  crests  of  the  lofty  lindens,  and  the  birches  in 
the  garden,  and  bore  far  away  the  falling  yellow  leaves. 
I  sat  by  the  window,  and  awaited  with  impatience  the 
completion  of  the  preparations. 

When  all  were  assembled  around  the  large  table  in 
the  drawing-room,  in  order  to  spend  a  few  minutes  to- 
gether for  the  last  time,  it  never  entered  my  mind  what 
a  painful  moment  was  awaiting  us.     The  most  trivial 

^  A  red  coUon  material. 


CHILDHOOD  47 

thoughts  wandered  through  my  brain.  I  asked  myself, 
Which  post-boy  would  drive  the  calash,  and  which  the 
britchka  ?  who  would  travel  with  papa,  and  who  with 
Karl  Ivanitch  ?  and  why  was  it  indispensable  to  wrap 
me  up  in  a  scarf  and  a  long  wadded  overcoat? 

"Am  I  so  delicate?  I  shall  not  freeze.  I  wish  they 
would  get  through  this  as  quickly  as  possible  !  I  want 
to  get  in  and  ride  off." 

"To  whom  shall  I  give  the  list  of  the  children's 
linen  ? "  asked  Natalya  Savischna,  coming  in  with  tear- 
swollen  eyes  and  the  list  in  her  hand,  as  she  addressed 
mamma. 

"  Give  it  to  Nikolai,  and  come  back  to  say  good-by 
to  the  children." 

The  old  woman  tried  to  say  something,  but  suddenh' 
paused,  covered  her  face  with  her  handkerchief,  and 
left  the  room  with  a  wave  of  the  hand. 

My  heart  contracted  w^ith  pain  when  I  saw  that 
motion  ;  but  impatience  to  start  was  stronger  than  that 
feeling,  and  I  continued  to  listen  indifferently  to  papa's 
conversation  with  mamma.  They  talked  of  things 
which  evidently  interested  neither  of  them  :  What  was 
it  necessary  to  purchase  for  the  house  ?  what  was  to  be 
said  to  Princess  Sophie  and  Madame  Julie  ?  and  would 
the  traveling  be  good  ? 

Foka  entered,  and,  halting  on  the  threshold,  said, 
"  The  horses  are  ready,"  in  exactly  the  same  tone  with 
which  he  announced,  "  Dinner  is  served."  I  noticed 
that  mamma  shuddered  and  turned  pale  at  this  announce- 
ment, as  though  she  had  not  expected  it. 

Foka  was  ordered  to  close  all  the  doors  of  the  room. 
I  was  very  much  amused  at  this  :  "as  though  they  were 
hiding  themselves  from  somebody." 

When  all  sat  down,  Foka  also  seated  himself  on  the 
edge  of  a  chair ;  but  no  sooner  had  he  done  so  than 
a  door  squeaked,  and  all  glanced  round.  Natalya  Savi- 
schna entered  in  haste,  and,  without  raising  her  eyes, 
took  refuge  near  the  door  on  the  same  chair  with  Foka. 
I  seem  now  to  see  Foka's  bald  head  and  wrinkled, 
immovable  face,  and  the  kind,  bent  form   in   the   cap 


48  CHILDHOOD 

beneath  which  the  gray  hair  was  visible.  They  crowded 
together  on  the  one  chair,  and  both  felt  awkward. 

I  remained  unconcerned  and  impatient.  The  ten 
seconds  during  which  we  sat  there  with  closed  doors 
seemed  a  whole  hour  to  me.  At  length  we  all  rose, 
crossed  ourselves,  and  began  to  take  leave.  Papa  em- 
braced mamnia,  and  kissed  her  several  times. 

"  Enough,  my  dear,"  said  papa.  "  We  are  not  part- 
ing forever." 

"  It  is  painful,  nevertheless,"  said  mamma,  in  a  voice 
which  quivered  with  tears. 

When  I  heard  that  voice,  and  beheld  her  trembling 
lips  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  I  forgot  everything, 
and  everything  seemed  to  me  so  sad  and  miserable  and 
terrible  that  I  would  rather  have  run  away  than  have 
said  good-by  to  her.  At  that  moment  I  realized  that, 
when  she  embraced  papa,  she  had  already  taken  leave  of 
us. 

She  kissed  and  crossed  Volodya  so  many  times,  that, 
supposing  that  she  would  now  turn  to  me,  I  stepped 
forward.  But  she  continued  to  bless  him  and  to  press 
him  to  her  bosom.  Finally  I  embraced  her,  and,  cling- 
ing to  her,  I  wept  without  a  thought  beyond  my  grief. 

When  we  went  out  to  get  into  the  carriage,  the  tire- 
some servants  stepped  forward  in  the  anteroom  to  say 
farewell.  Their  "  Your  hand,  please,  sir,"  their  noisy 
kisses  on  our  shoulders,  and  the  smell  of  the  tallow  on 
their  heads,  aroused  in  me  a  sentiment  nearly  akin  to 
that  of  bitterness  in  irritable  people.  Under  the  influ- 
ence of  this  feeling  I  kissed  Natalya  Savischna  very 
coldly  on  her  cap  when,  bathed  in  tears,  she  bade  me 
farewell. 

It  is  strange  that  I  can  even  now  see  the  faces  of  all 
those  servants,  and  I  could  draw  them  with  all  the 
most  minute  details;  but  mamma's  face  and  attitude 
have  utterly  escaped  my  mind,  perhaps  because  during 
all  that  time  I  could  not  Dnce  summon  up  courage  to 
look  at  her.  It  seemed  to  me  that,  if  I  did  so,  her  sorrow 
and  mine  must  increase  to  the  bounds  of  impossibility. 

I  flung  myself  first  of  all  into  the  calash,  and  j)laced 


CHILDHOOD  49 

myself  on  the  back  seat.  As  the  hood  was  up,  I  could 
see  nothmg,  but  some  instinct  told  me  that  mamma  was 
still  there. 

"Shall  I  look  at  her  again,  or  not?  Well,  for  the 
last  time,  then !  "  I  said  to  myself,  and  leaned  out  of  the 
calash  toward  the  porch.  At  that  moment  mamma 
had  come  to  the  other  side  of  the  carriage  with  the 
same  intent,  and  called  mc  by  name.  When  I  heard 
her  voice  behind  me,  I  turned  round,  but  I  did  it  so 
abruptly  that  we  bumped  our  heads  together.  She 
smiled  mournfully,  and  kissed  me  long  and  warmly 
for  the  last  time. 

When  we  had  driven  several  rods,  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  look  at  her.  The  breeze  raised  the  blue  ker- 
chief which  was  tied  about  her  head ;  with  bended  head, 
and  face  covered  with  her  hands,  she  was  entering  the 
porch  slowly.     Foka  was  sustaining  her. 

Papa  sat  beside  me,  and  said  nothing.  I  was  chok- 
ing with  tears,  and  something  oppressed  my  throat  so 
that  I  was  afraid  I  should  stifle.  As  we  entered  the 
highway,  we  saw  a  white  handkerchief  which  some  one 
was  waving  from  the  balcony.  I  began  to  wave  mine, 
and  this  movement  calmed  me  somewhat.  I  continued 
to  cry,  and  the  thought  that  my  tears  proved  my  sensi- 
tiveness afforded  me  pleasure  and  consolation. 

After  we  had  traveled  a  verst,  I  sat  more  composedly, 
and  began  to  observe  the  nearest  objects  which  presented 
themselves  to  my  eyes,  —  the  hind  quarters  of  the  side 
horse  which  was  on  my  side.  I  noticed  how  this  pie- 
bald animal  flourished  his  tail,  how  he  set  one  foot 
down  after  the  other,  how  the  post-boy's  braided  knout 
reached  him,  and  his  feet  began  to  leap  together.  I 
noticed  how  the  harness  leaped  about  on  him,  and  the 
rings  on  the  harness ;  and  I  gazed  until  the  harness 
was  covered  around  the  tail  with  foam.  I  began  to 
look  about  me,  upon  the  undulating  fields  of  ripe  rye, 
on  the  dark  waste  land,  on  which  here  and  there  plows, 
peasants,  and  mares  with  their  foals  were  visible ;  on 
the  verst-stones ;  I  even  glanced  at  the  carriage-box  to 
find  out  which  post-boy  was  driving  us ;  and  the  tears 


50  CHILDHOOD 

were  not  dry  on  niy  face,  when  my  thoughts  were 
already  far  from  the  mother  whom  I  had  left  perhaps 
forever.  But  every  recollection  led  me  to  the  thought 
of  her.  I  recalled  the  mushroom  which  I  had  found 
the  day  before  in  the  birch-alley,  and  remembered  that 
Liubotchka  and  Katenka  had  disputed  as  to  who  should 
pluck  it,  and  I  remember  how  they  had  wept  at  parting 
from  us. 

I  was  sorry  for  them,  and  for  Natalya  Savischna,  and 
the  birch-alley,  and  Foka.  I  was  even  sorry  for  ma- 
licious Mimi.  I  was  sorry  for  everything,  everything ! 
But  poor  mamma?  And  the  tears  again  filled  my  eyes, 
but  not  for  long. 


CHAPTER   XV 

CHILDHOOD 

Happy,  happy  days  of  youth  which  can  never  be  re- 
called! How  is  it  possible  not  to  love  it,  to  cherish 
memories  of  it .''  Those  memories  refresh  and  elevate 
my  soul,  and  serve  me  as  the  fountain  of  my  best 
enjoyment. 

—  You  have  ruy  your  fill.  You  sit  at  the  tea-table,  in 
your  high  chair  ;  you  have  drunk  your  cup  of  milk  and 
sugar  long  ago  ;  sleep  is  gluing  your  eyes  together,  but 
you  do  not  stir  from  the  spot,  you  sit  and  listen.  And 
how  can  you  help  listening .''  Mamma  is  talking  with 
some  one,  and  the  sound  of  her  voice  is  so  sweet,  so 
courteous.  That  sound  alone  says  so  much  to  my  heart ! 
With  eyes  dimmed  with  slumber,  I  gaze  upon  her  face, 
and  all  at  once  she  has  become  small,  so  small  —  her 
face  is  no  larger  than  a  button,  but  I  see  it  just  as 
plainly  still.  I  see  her  look  at  me  and  smile.  I  like  to 
see  her  so  small.  I  draw  my  eyelids  still  closer  together, 
and  she  is  no  larger  than  the  little  boys  one  sees  in  the 
pupils  of  the  eyes ;  but  I  moved,  and  the  illusion  was 
destroyed.  I  close  my  eyes,  twist  about,  and  try  in 
every  way  to  re]:)roduce  it,  but  in  vain. 


CHILDHOOD  51 

I  rise,  tuck  my  feet  under  me,  and  settle  myself 
comfortably  in  an  easy-chair. 

"  You  will  go  to  sleep  again,  Nikolenka,"  says  mamma; 
"you  had  better  goup-stairs." 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  to  bed,  mamma,"  you  reply,  and 
sweet,  dim  fancies  fill  your  brain ;  the  healthy  sleep  of 
childhood  closes  your  lids,  and  in  a  moment  you  lose 
consciousness,  and  sleep  until  they  wake  you.  You 
feel  in  your  dreams  that  somebody's  soft  hand  is  touch- 
ing you ;  you  recognize  it  by  that  touch  alone;  and  still 
sleeping  you  involuntarily  seize  it,  and  press  it  warmly, 
so  warmly,  to  your  lips. 

Every  one  has  already  departed  ;  one  candle  only 
burns  in  the  drawing-room.  Mamma  has  said  that  she 
would  wake  me ;  it  is  she  who  has  sat  down  on  the 
chair  in  which  I  am  sleeping,  and  strokes  my  hair  with 
her  wonderfully  soft  hand,  and  in  my  ears  resounds  the 
dear,  familiar  voice. 

"  Get  up,  my  darling,  it  is  time  to  go  to  bed." 

She  is  not  embarrassed  by  any  one's  indifferent 
glances  ;  she  does  not  fear  to  pour  out  upon  me  all  her 
tenderness  and  love.  I  do  not  move,  but  kiss  her  hand 
yet  more  earnestly. 

"Get  up,  my  angel." 

She  takes  me  by  the  neck  with  her  other  hand,  and 
her  slender  fingers  rouse  me  and  tickle  me  ;  she  touches 
me,  and  I  am  conscious  of  her  perfume  and  her  voice. 
All  this  makes  me  spring  up,  encircle  her  neck  with 
my  arms,  press  my  head  to  her  bosom  wdth  a  sigh,  and 
say  :  — 

"  Oh,  dear,  dear  mamma,  how  I  love  you  !  " 

She  smiles,  with  her  sad,  bewitching  smile,  takes  my 
head  in  both  her  hands,  kisses  my  brow,  and  sets  me 
on  her  knees. 

"  So  you  love  me  very  much  ? "  She  is  silent  for  a 
moment,  then  speaks :  "  See  that  you  always  love  me, 
and  never  forget  me.  If  you  lose  your  mamma,  you  will 
not  forget  her  ?  you  will  not  forget  her,  Nikolenka  .''  " 

She  kisses  me  still  more  tenderly. 

"  Stop  !  don't  say  that,  my  darling,  my  precious  one  !  " 


52  CHILDHOOD 

I  cry,  kissing  her  knees ;  and  the  tears  stream  in  floods 
from  my  eyes,  —  tears  of  love  and  rapture.       ' 

After  that,  perhaps,  when  you  go  up-stairs,  and  stand 
before  the  images  in  your  wadded  dressing-gown,  what 
a  wonderful  sensation  you  experience  when  you  say, 
"  O  Lord  !  save  papa  and  mamma  !  "  In  repeating  the 
prayers  which  my  mouth  lisped  for  the  first  time  after 
my  beloved  mother,  the  love  of  her  and  the  love  of  God 
are  united,  in  some  strange  fashion,  in  one  feeling. 

After  your  prayer  you  wrap  yourself  in  the  bed- 
clothes, with  a  spirit  light,  bright,  and  inspiring ;  one 
dream  succeeds  another,  but  what  arc  they  all  about .-' 
They  are  indescribable ;  but  full  of  ]")ure  love,  of  hope 
and  bright  happiness.  You  perhaps  recall  Karl  Iva- 
nitch  and  his  bitter  lot,  —  the  only  unhappy  man  I  knew, 
—  and  you  are  so  sorry  for  him,  you  love  him  so,  that 
tears  trickle  from  your  eyes,  and  you  think,  "  May  God 
give  him  happiness  ;  may  He  grant  me  power  to  help 
him,  to  lighten  his  sorrow ;  I  am  ready  to  sacrifice 
everything  for  him."  Then  you  thrust  your  favorite 
porcelain  plaything  —  a  dog  or  a  hare  —  into  the  corner 
of  the  down  pillow,  and  it  pleases  you  to  think  how  warm 
and  comfortable  it  will  be  there.  You  pray  again  that 
God  will  grant  happiness  to  all,  that  every  one  may  be 
content ;  and  that  the  weather  to-morrow  may  be  good 
for  walking ;  you  turn  on  the  other  side  ;  your  thoughts 
and  dreams  mingle  confusedly,  and  intertwine,  and 
you  fall  asleep  quietly,  calmly,  your  face  still  wet  with 
tears. 

Will  that  freshness,  that  happy  carelessness,  that 
necessity  for  love  and  strength  of  faith,  which  you  pos- 
sessed in  childhood,  ever  return  ?  Can  any  time  be 
better  than  that  when  the  two  greatest  of  virtues  —  in- 
nocent gayety  and  unbounded  thirst  for  love  —  were 
the  only  requirements  in  life  ? 

Where  are  those  burning  prayers  ?  Where  is  that 
best  gift  of  all,  those  pure  tears  of  emotion.''  The  angel 
of  comfort  flew  thither  with  a  smile,  and  wiped  away 
those  tears,  and  instilled  sweet  visions  into  the  uncor- 
rupted  imagination  of  infancy. 


CHILDHOOD  S3 

Has  life  left  such  heavy  traces  in  my  heart  that  those 
tears  and  raptures  have  deserted  me  forever  ?  Do  the 
memories  alone  abide  ? 


CHAPTER  XVI 

VERSES 

Nearly  a  month  after  we  removed  to  Moscow,  I  was 
sitting  up-stairs  in  grandmamma's  house,  at  a  big  table, 
writing.  Opposite  me  sat  the  drawing-master,  making 
the  final  corrections  in  a  pencil  sketch  of  the  head  of 
some  Turk  or  other  in  a  turban.  Volodya  was  standing 
behind  the  master,  with  outstretched  neck,  gazing  over 
his  shoulder.  This  little  head  was  Volodya's  first  pro- 
duction in  pencil ;  and  it  was  to  be  presented  to  grand- 
mamma that  day,  which  was  her  saint's  day. 

''And  you  would  not  put  anymore  shading  here.-'" 
said  Volodya,  rising  on  tiptoe,  and  pointing  at  the  Turk's 
neck. 

"  No,  it  is  not  necessary,"  said  the  teacher,  laying 
aside  the  pencil  and  drawing-pen  in  a  little  box  with  a 
lock ;  "  it  is  very  good  now,  and  you  must  not  touch  it 
again.  Now  for  you,  Nikolenka,"  he  added,  rising,  and 
continuing  to  gaze  at  the  Turk  from  the  corner  of  his 
eye,  "  reveal  your  secret  to  us.  What  are  you  going  to 
carry  to  your  grandmother  ?  To  tell  the  truth,  another 
head  just  like  this  would  be  the  best  thing.  Good-by, 
gentlemen,"  said  he,  and,  taking  his  hat  and  note,  he 
went  out. 

I  had  been  thinking  myself,  at  the  moment,  that  a 
head  would  be  better  than  what  I  was  working  at. 
When  it  had  been  announced  to  us  that  grandmamma's 
name-day  was  near  at  hand,  and  that  we  must  prepare 
gifts  for  the  occasion,  I  had  immediately  made  up  a 
couple  of  verses,  hoping  soon  to  find  the  rest.  I  really 
do  not  know  how  such  a  strange  idea  for  a  child  entered 
my  mind  ;  but  I  remember  that  it  pleased  me  greatly, 
and  that  to  all  questions  on  the  subject  I  replied  that  I 


54 


CHILDHOOD 


would  give  grandmamma  a  present  without  fail,  but  that 
I  would  not  tell  any  one  of  what  it  was  to  consist. 

Contrary  to  my  expectations,  and  in  spite  of  all  my 
efforts,  I  could  not  compose  any  more  than  the  two 
stanzas  which  I  had  thought  out  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment.  I  began  to  read  the  poems  in  our  books ; 
but  neither  Dmitrieff  nor  Derzhavin  afforded  me  any 
assistance.  Quite  the  reverse :  they  but  convinced  me 
more  thoroughly  of  my  own  incapacity.  Knowing  that 
Karl  Ivanitch  was  fond  of  copying  poetry,  I  went  to 
rummaging  among  his  papers  on  the  sly  ;  and  among 
the  German  poems  I  found  one  Russian,  which  must 
have  been  the  product  of  his  own  pen :  — 

TO   MADAME   L. 

Remember  me  near ; 
Remember  me  afar  ; 
Remember  me 
Now  and  forever  ; 
Remember  even  to  my  grave 
How  faithfully  I  can  love.^ 

KARL   MAUER. 
Petrovskoe,  1828,  June  3. 

This  poem,  transcribed  in  a  handsome  round  hand,  on 
a  thin  sheet  of  note-paper,  pleased  me  because  of  the 
touching  sentiment  with  which  it  was  permeated.  I 
immediately  learned  it  by  heart,  and  resolved  to  take  it 
for  a  pattern.  The  matter  progressed  much  more  easily 
then.  On  the  name-day  a  congratulation  in  twelve  verses 
was  ready,  and  as  I  sat  in  the  school-room,  I  was  copy- 
ing it  on  vellum  paper. 

Two  sheets  of  paper  were  already  ruined  ;  not  be- 
cause I  had  undertaken  to  make  any  alterations  in 
them, — the  verses  seemed  to  me  very  fine, — but  from 
the  third  line  on,  the  ends  began  to  incline  upward  more 
and  more,  so  that  it  was  evident,  even  at  a  distance,  that 
it  was  written  crookedly,  and  was  fit  for  nothing. 

The  third  sheet  was  askew  like  the  others ;  but  I  was 

'  It  hardly  comes  under  the  head  of  poetry,  even  in  the  original.  —  Tr. 


CHILDHOOD  ^^ 

determined  not  to  do  any  more  copying.  In  my  poem 
I  congratulated  grandmamma,  wished  her  many  years 
of  health,  and  concluded  thus  :  — 

"  To  comfort  thee  we  shall  endeavor. 
And  love  thee  like  our  own  dear  mother." 

It  seemed  to  be  very  good,  yet  the  last  line  offended 
my  ear  strangely. 

I  kept  repeating  it  to  myself,  and  trying  to  find  a 
rhyme  instead  of  "mother."^  "Well,  let  it  go.  It's 
better  than  Karl  Ivanitch's,  anyway." 

So  I  transcribed  the  last  stanza.  Then  I  read  my 
whole  composition  over  aloud  in  the  bedroom,  with  feel-- 
ing  and  gesticulations.  The  verses  were  entirely  lacking 
in  rhythm,  but  I  did  not  pause  over  them  ;  the  last,  how- 
ever, struck  me  still  more  powerfully  and  unpleasantly. 
I  sat  down  on  the  bed  and  began  to  think. 

"  Why  did  I  write  /i/ce  our  own  dear  mother?  She  's 
not  here,  and  it  was  not  necessary  to  mention  her.  I 
love  grandma,  it 's  true ;  I  reverence  her,  but  still  she  is 
not  the  same.  Why  did  I  write  that?  Why  have  I 
lied  .''  Suppose  this  is  poetry ;  it  was  not  necessary,  all 
the  same." 

At  this  moment  the  tailor  entered  with  a  new  jacket. 

"  Well,  let  it  go,"  I  said,  very  impatiently,  thrust  my 
verses  under  my  pillow  in  great  vexation,  and  ran  to  try 
on  my  Moscow  clothes. 

The  Moscow  coat  proved  to  be  excellent.  The  cinna- 
mon-brown half-coat,  with  its  bronze  buttons,  was  made 
to  fit  snugly,  — not  as  they  made  them  in  the  country. 
The  black  trousers  were  also  tight ;  it  was  wonderful  to 
see  how  well  they  showed  the  muscles,  and  set  upon 
the  shoes. 

"  At  last  I  've  got  some  trousers  with  real  straps,"  I 
thought,  quite  beside  myself  with  joy,  as  I  surveyed  my 
legs  on  all  sides.  Although  the  new  garments  were 
very  tight,  and  it  was  hard  to  move  in  them,  I  concealed 

1  Mat  (mother),  as  a  rhyme  to  tttyeschat  (to  comfort),  is  the  difficulty. 
Nikolai  tries  to  fit  in  igrat  (to  play)  and  krovat  (bed),  in  elderly  rhymester 

fashion. — Tr. 


56  CHILDHOOD 

the  fact  from  everybody,  and  declared  that,  on  the  con. 
trary,  I  was  extremely  comfortable,  and  that  if  there  was 
any  fault  about  the  clothes,  it  was  that  they  were,  if  any- 
thing, a  little  too  large.  After  that  I  stood  for  a  long 
time  before  the  glass,  brushing  my  copiously  pomaded 
hair;  but,  try  as  I  would,  I  could  not  make  the  tuft 
where  the  hair  parts  on  the  crown  lie  flat ;  as  soon  as 
I  ceased  to  press  it  down  with  the  brush,  in  order  to 
see  if  it  would  obey  me,  it  rose,  and  projected  in  all 
directions,  imparting  to  my  face  the  most  ridiculous 
expression. 

Karl  Ivanitch  was  dressing  in  another  room ;  and  his 
blue  swallow-tailed  coat,  and  some  white  belongings, 
were  carried  through  the  school-room  to  him.  The  voice 
of  one  of  grandmamma's  maids  became  audible  at  the 
door  which  led  down-stairs.  I  went  out  to  see  what  she 
wanted.  In  her  hand  she  held  a  stiffly  starched  shirt- 
front,  which  she  told  me  she  had  brought  for  Karl  Iva- 
nitch, and  that  she  had  not  slept  all  the  previous  night, 
in  order  that  she  might  get  it  washed  in  season.  I 
undertook  to  deliver  it,  and  asked  if  grandmamma  had 
risen. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  sir  !  She  has  already  drunk  her  coffee, 
and  the  protopope  ^  has  arrived.  How  fine  you  are!" 
she  added,  glancing  at  my  new  suit,  with  a  smile. 

This  remark  made  me  blush.  I  whirled  round  on  one 
foot,  cracked  my  fingers,  and  gave  a  leap,  wishing  by 
this  means  to  make  her  feel  that  she  did  not  thoroughly 
appreciate,  as  yet,  how  very  grand  I  was. 

When  I  carried  the  shirt-front  to  Karl  Ivanitch,  he 
no  longer  needed  it ;  he  had  put  on  another,  and,  bend- 
ing over  before  the  little  glass  which  stood  on  the  table, 
he  was  holding  the  splendid  bow  of  his  cravat  with  both 
hands,  and  trying  whether  his  clean-shaven  chin  would 
go  into  it  easily  and  out  again.  After  smoothing  our 
clothes  down  on  all  sides,  and  requesting  Nikolai  to  do 
the  same  for  him,  he  led  us  to  grandmamma.  I  laugh 
when  I  remember  how  strongly  we  three  smelt  of 
pomade  as  we  descended  the  stairs. 

^  Archpriest. 


CHILDHOOD  57 

Karl  Ivanitch  had  in  his  hands  a  little  box  of  his  own 
manufacture,  Volodya  had  his  drawing,  I  had  my  verses; 
each  one  had  upon  his  tongue  the  greeting  with  which 
he  intended  to  present  his  gift.  At  the  very  moment 
when  Karl  Ivanitch  opened  the  drawing-room  door,  the 
priest  was  putting  on  his  robes,  and  the  first  sounds  of 
the  Te  Deum  service  resounded. 

Grandmamma  was  already  in  the  hall :  she  was  stand- 
ing by  the  wall,  supporting  herself  on  the  back  of  a 
chair,  over  which  she  bent,  and  was  praying  devoutly ; 
beside  her  stood  papa.  He  turned  toward  us,  and 
smiled,  as  he  saw  us  hide  our  gifts  in  haste  behind  our 
backs,  and  halt  just  inside  the  door,  in  our  endeavor  to 
escape  being  seen.  The  whole  effect  of  unexpected- 
ness upon  which  we  had  counted  was  ruined. 

When  the  time  came  to  go  up  and  kiss  the  cross,  I 
suddenly  felt  that  I  was  under  the  oppressive  influence 
of  an  ill-defined,  benumbing  timidity,  and,  realizing  that 
I  should  never  have  courage  to  present  my  gift,  I  hid 
behind  Karl  Ivanitch,  who,  having  congratulated  grand- 
mamma in  the  choicest  language,  shifted  his  box  from 
his  right  hand  to  his  left,  handed  it  to  the  lady  whose 
name-day  it  was,  and  retreated  a  few  paces  in  order  to 
make  way  for  Volodya.  Grandmamma  appeared  to  be 
in  ecstasies  over  the  box,  which  had  gilt  strips  pasted 
on  the  edges,  and  expressed  her  gratitude  with  the  most 
flattering  of  smiles.  It  was  evident,  however,  that  she 
did  not  know  where  to  put  the  box,  and  it  must  have 
been  for  this  reason  that  she  proposed  that  papa  should 
examine  with  what  wonderful  taste  it  was  made. 

After  satisfying  his  curiosity,  papa  handed  it  to  the 
protopope,  who  seemed  exceedingly  pleased  with  this 
trifle.  He  dandled  his  head,  and  gazed  curiously  now 
at  the  box,  and  again  at  the  artist  who  could  make  such 
a  beautiful  object.  Volodya  produced  his  Turk,  and  he 
also  received  the  most  flattering  encomiums  from  all 
quarters.  Now  it  was  my  turn ;  grandmamma  turned 
to  me  with  an  encouraging  smile. 

Those  who  have  suffered  from  shyness  know  that  that 
feeling  increases  in  direct  proportion  to  the  time  which 


58  CHILDHOOD 

elapses,  and  that  resolution  decreases  in  an  inverse  ratio, 
that  is  to  say,  the  longer  the  sensation  lasts,  the  more 
unconquerable  it  becomes,  and  the  less  decision  there  is 
left. 

The  last  remnants  of  courage  and  determination  for- 
sook me  when  Karl  Ivanitch  and  Volodya  presented 
their  gifts,  and  my  shyness  reached  a  crisis ;  I  felt  that 
the  blood  was  incessantly  rushing  from  my  heart  into 
my  head,  that  one  color  succeeded  another  on  my 
face,  and  that  great  drops  of  perspiration  broke  out 
upon  my  nose  and  forehead.  My  ears  burned  ;  I  felt  a 
shiver  and  a  cold  perspiration  all  over  my  body  ;  I 
shifted  from  foot  to  foot,  and  did  not  stir  from  the  spot. 

"  Come,  Nikolenka,  show  us  what  you  have,  — a  box 
or  a  drawing?"  said  papa.  There  was  nothing  to  be 
done.  With  a  trembling  hand,  I  presented  the  crumpled, 
fateful  scroll ;  but  my  voice  utterly  refused  to  serve  me, 
and  I  stood  before  grandmamma  in  silence.  I  could 
not  get  over  the  thought  that,  in  place  of  the  drawing 
which  was  expected,  my  worthless  verses  would  be  read 
before  every  one,  including  the  words  like  our  own  dear 
mother,  which  would  clearly  prove  that  I  had  never 
loved  her  and  had  forgotten  her.  How  convey  an  idea 
of  my  sufferings  during  the  time  when  grandmamma 
began  to  read  my  poem  aloud,  and  when,  unable  to 
decipher  it,  she  paused  in  the  middle  of  a  line  in  order 
to  glance  at  papa  with  what  then  seemed  to  me  a  mock- 
ing smile ;  when  she  did  not  pronounce  to  suit  me,  and 
when,  owing  to  her  feebleness  of  vision,  she  gave  the 
paper  to  papa  before  she  had  finished,  and  begged  him 
to  read  it  all  over  again  from  the  beginning  .-'  It  seemed 
to  me  that  she  did  it  because  she  did  not  like  to  read 
such  stupid  and  crookedly  written  verses,  and  in  order 
that  papa  might  read  for  himself  that  last  line  which 
proved  so  clearly  my  lack  of  feeling.  I  expected  that 
he  would  give  me  a  fillip  on  the  nose  with  those  verses, 
and  say,  *'  You  good-for-nothing  boy,  don't  forget  your 
mother  —  take  that!"  But  nothing  of  the  sort  hap- 
pened ;  on  the  contrary,  when  all  was  read,  grand- 
mamma said,  "Charming!"  and  kissed  my  brow. 


CHILDHOOD  59 

The  little  box,  the  drawing,  and  the  verses  were  laid 
out  in  a  row,  beside  two  cambric  handkerchiefs  and  a 
snuff-box  with  a  portrait  of  mamma,  on  the  movable 
table  attached  to  the  long  sofa-chair  in  which  grand- 
mamma always  sat. 

"Princess  Varvara  Ilinitchna,"  announced  one  of  the 
two  huge  lackeys  who  accompanied  grandmamma's 
carriage. 

Grandmamma  gazed  thoughtfully  at  the  portrait  set 
in  the  tortoise-shell  cover  of  the  snuff-box,  and  made  no 
reply. 

"  Will  your  illustrious  highness  receive  her?"  repeated 
the  footman. 

CHAPTER   XVII 

PRINCESS    KORNAKOFF 

"  Ask  her  in,"  said  grandmamma,  sitting  back  in  her 
long  sofa-chair. 

The  princess  was  a  woman  of  about  forty-five,  small, 
fragile,  dry,  and  bitter,  with  disagreeable  grayish  green 
eyes,  whose  expression  plainly  contradicted  that  of  the 
preternaturally  sweet  pursed-up  mouth.  Beneath  her 
velvet  bonnet,  adorned  with  an  ostrich  plume,  her  bright 
reddish  hair  was  visible ;  her  eyebrows  and  lashes  ap- 
peared still  lighter  and  redder  against  the  unhealthy 
color  of  her  face.  In  spite  of  this,  thanks  to  her  uncon- 
strained movements,  her  tiny  hands,  and  a  peculiar 
coldness  of  feature,  her  general  appearance  was  rather 
noble  and  energetic. 

The  princess  talked  a  great  deal,  and  by  her  distinct 
enunciation  belonged  to  the  class  of  people  who  always 
speak  as  though  some  one  were  contradicting  them, 
though  no  one  has  uttered  a  word ;  she  alternately 
raised  her  voice  and  lowered  it  gradually,  and  began  all 
at  once  to  speak  with  fresh  animation,  and  gazed  at  the 
persons  who  were  present  but  who  took  no  part  in  the 
conversation,  as  though  endeavoring  to  obtain  support 
by  this  glance. 


6o  CHILDHOOD 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  princess  kissed  grand 
mamma's  hand,  and  called  her  ma  bonne  tante  inces- 
santly, I  observed  that  grandmamma  was  not  pleased 
with  her ;  she  twitched  her  brows  in  a  peculiar  manner 
while  listening  to  her  story  about  the  reason  why  Prince 
Mikhailo  could  not  possibly  come  in  person  to  congratu- 
late grandmamma,  in  spite  of  his  ardent  desire  to  do  so ; 
and,  replying  in  Russian  to  the  princess's  French,  she 
said,  with  a  singular  drawl,  "  I  am  very  much  obliged 
to  you,  my  dear,  for  your  attention  ;  and  as  for  Prince 
Mikhailo  not  coming,  it  is  not  worth  mentioning,  he 
always  has  so  much  to  do  ;  and  what  pleasure  could  he 
find  in  sitting  with  an  old  woman  ? " 

And,  without  giving  the  princess  time  to  contradict 
her,  she  went  on  :  — 

"  How  are  your  children,  my  dear  ?  " 

"Thank  God,  aunt,  they  are  growing  well,  and  study- 
ing and  playing  pranks,  especially  Etienne.  He  is  the 
eldest,  and  he  is  getting  to  be  so  wild  that  we  can't  do 
anything  with  him;  but  he's  clever,  —  a  promising  boy} 
—  Just  imagine,  cousin,''  she  continued,  turning  exclu- 
sively to  papa,  because  grandmamma,  who  took  no 
interest  in  the  princess's  children,  and  wanted  to  brag 
of  her  own  grandchildren,  had  taken  my  verses  from 
the  box  with  great  care,  and  was  beginning  to  unfold 
them,  —  "just  imagine,  cousin,  what  he  did  the  other 
day."  And  the  princess  bent  over  papa,  and  began  to 
relate  something  with  great  animation.  When  she  had 
finished  her  tale,  which  I  did  not  hear,  she  immediately 
began  to  laugh,  and  looking  inquiringly  at  papa,  said:  — 

"  That 's  a  nice  kind  of  boy,  cousin  ?  He  deserved  a 
whipping ;  but  his  caper  was  so  clever  and  amusing, 
that  I  forgave  him,  cousin.'' 

And,  fixing  her  eyes  on  grandmamma,  the  princess 
went  on  smiling,  but  said  nothing. 

"Do  you  beat  your  children,  my  dear.-'"  inquired 
grandmamma,  raising  her  brows  significantly,  and  laying 
a  special  emphasis  on  the  word  beat. 

'  riie  italicized  words  in  the  princess's  remarks  axe  in  French  in  the 

urieinal.  — Tk. 


CHILDHOOD  6i 

"Ah,  my  good  aunt,''  replied  the  princess,  in  a  good- 
natured  tone,  as  she  cast  a  swift  glance  at  papa,  "  I 
know  your  opinion  on  that  point ;  but  you  must  permit 
me  to  disagree  with  you  in  one  particular :  in  spite  of 
all  my  thought  and  reading,  in  spite  of  all  the  advice 
which  I  have  taken  on  this  subject,  experience  has  led 
me  to  the  conviction  that  it  is  indispensable  that  one 
should  act  upon  children  through  their  fears.  Fear 
is  requisite,  in  order  to  make  anything  out  of  a  child  ; 
is  it  not  so,  wy  cousin  ?  Now,  /  ask  you,  do  children 
fear  anything  more  than  the  rod  ?  " 

With  this,  she  glanced  inquiringly  at  us,  and  I  confess 
I  felt  rather  uncomfortable  at  that  moment. 

"  Whatever  you  may  say,  a  boy  of  twelve,  or  even 
one  of  fourteen,  is  still  a  child ;  but  a  girl  is  quite  another 
matter." 

"How  lucky,"  I  thought  to  myself,  "that  I  am  not 
her  son  !  " 

"  Yes,  that 's  all  very  fine,  my  dear,"  said  grand- 
mamma, folding  up  my  verses,  and  placing  them  under 
the  box,  as  though,  after  that,  she  considered  the  prin- 
cess unworthy  of  hearing  such  a  production  ;  "  that 's 
all  very  fine,  but  tell  me,  please,  how  you  can  expect 
any  delicacy  of  feeling  in  your  children  after  that." 

And,  regarding  this  argument  as  unanswerable,  grand- 
mamma added,  in  order  to  put  an  end  to  the  conversa- 
tion :  — 

"  However,  every  one  has  a  right  to  his  own  opinion 
on  that  subject." 

The  princess  made  no  reply,  but  smiled  condescend- 
ingly, thereby  giving  us  to  understand  that  she  par- 
doned these  strange  prejudices  in  an  individual  who 
was  so  much  respected. 

"Ah,  pray  make  me  acquainted  with  your  young- 
people,"  she  said,  glancing  at  us,  and  smiling  poHtely. 

We  rose,  fixed  our  eyes  on  the  princess's  face,  but 
did  not  in  the  least  know  what  we  ought  to  do  in  order 
to  show  that  the  acquaintance  had  been  made. 

"Kiss  the  princess's  hand,"  said  papa. 

"I  beg  that  you  will  love  your  old  aunt,"  she  said, 


62  CHILDHOOD 

kissing  Volodya  on  the  hair ;  "  although  I  am  only  a 
distant  aunt,  I  reckon  on  our  friendly  relations  rather 
than  on  degrees  of  blood  relationship,"  she  added,  direct- 
ing her  remarks  chiefly  to  grandmamma ;  but  grand- 
mamma was  still  displeased  with  her,  and  answered:  — 

"  Eh  !  my  dear,  does  such  relationship  count  for  any- 
thing nowadays  ? " 

"This  is  going  to  be  my  young  man  of  the  world," 
said  papa,  pointing  to  Volodya;  "and  this  is  the  poet," 
he  added,  just  as  I  was  kissing  the  princess's  dry  little 
hand,  and  imagining,  with  exceeding  vividness,  that  the 
hand  held  a  rod,  and  beneath  the  rod  was  a  bench,  and 
so  on,  and  so  on. 

"Which?  "  asked  the  princess,  detaining  me  by  the  hand. 

"This  little  fellow  with  the  tuft  on  his  crown,"  an- 
swered papa,  smiling  gayl)'. 

"What  does  my  tuft  matter  lo  him?  Is  there  no 
other  subject  of  conversation  ?  "  I  thought,  and  retreated 
into  a  corner. 

I  had  the  strangest  possible  conceptions  of  beauty. 
I  even  considered  Karl  Ivanitch  the  greatest  beauty  in 
the  world ;  but  I  knew  very  well  that  I  was  not  good- 
looking  myself,  and  on  this  point  I  made  no  mistake  ; 
therefore  any  allusion  to  my  personal  appearance  of- 
fended me  deeply. 

I  remember  very  well  how  once  —  I  was  six  years 
old  at  the  time — they  were  discussing  my  looks  at 
dinner,  and  mamma  was  trying  to  discover  something 
handsome  about  my  face :  she  said  I  had  intelligent 
eyes,  an  agreeable  smile,  and  at  last,  yielding  to  papa's 
arguments  and  to  ocular  evidence,  she  was  forced  to 
confess  that  I  was  homely ;  and  then,  when  I  thanked 
her  for  the  dinner,  she  tapped  my  cheek,  and  said  :  - — 

"You  know,  Nikolenka,  that  no  one  will  love  you  for 
your  face  ;  therefore  you  must  endeavor  to  be  a  good 
and  sensible  boy." 

These  words  not  only  convinced  me  that  I  was  not  a 
beauty,  but  also  that  I   should,  without  fail,  become  a 
good,  sensible  boy. 
\       In  spite  of  this,  moments  of  despair  often  visited  me; 


CHILDHOOD  6-! 

/ 

t  fancied  that  there  was  no  happiness  on  earth  for  a 
person  with  such  a  wide  nose,  such  thick  lips,  and  such 
small  gray  eyes  as  I  had ;  I  besought  God  to  work  a 
miracle,  to  turn  me  into  a  beauty,  and  all  I  had  in  the 
present,  or  might  have  in  the  future,  I  would  give  in 
exchange  for  a  handsome  face. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

PRINCE   IVAN    IVANITCH 

When  the  princess  had  heard  the  verses,  and  had 
showered  praises  upon  the  author,  grandmamma  re- 
lented, began  to  address  her  in  French,  ceased  to  call 
herjv//,^  and  my  dear,  and  invited  her  to  come  to  us  in 
the  evening,  with  all  her  children,  to  which  the  princess 
consented ;  and  after  sitting  awhile  longer,  she  took 
her  departure. 

So  many  visitors  came  that  day  with  congratulations, 
that  the  courtyard  near  the  entrance  was  never  free,  all 
the  morning,  from  several  carriages. 

"  Good-morning,  cousin,"  said  one  of  the  guests,  in 
French,  as  he  entered  the  room,  and  kissed  grand- 
mamma's hand. 

He  was  a  man  about  seventy  years  of  age,  of  lofty 
stature,  dressed  in  a  military  uniform  with  big  epaulets, 
from  beneath  the  collar  of  which  a  large  white  cross  was 
visible,  and  with  a  calm,  frank  expression  of  countenance. 
The  freedom  and  simplicity  of  his  movements  surprised 
me.  His  face  was  still  notably  handsome,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  only  a  thin  semicircle  of  hair  was  left  on  the 
nape  of  the  neck,  and  that  the  position  of  his  upper  lip 
betrayed  the  lack  of  teeth. 

Prince  Ivan  Ivanitch  had  enjoyed  a  brilliant  career 
while  he  was  still  very  young  at  the  end  of  the  last 
century,  thanks  to  his  noble  character,  his  handsome 
person,  his  noteworthy  bravery,  his  distinguished  and 
powerful    family,  and    thanks  especially  to  good  luck. 

1  That  is  tu  say,  she  called  her  thou. 


64  CHILDHOOD 

He  remained  in  the  service,  and  his  ambition  was  very 
speedily  so  thoroughly  gratified  that  there  was  nothing 
left  for  him  to  wish  for  in  that  direction.  From  his 
earliest  youth  he  had  conducted  himself  as  if  preparing 
himself  to  occupy  that  dazzling  station  in  the  world  in 
which  fate  eventually  placed  him.  Therefore,  although 
he  encountered  some  disappointments,  disenchantments, 
and  bitterness  in  his  brilliant  and  somewhat  vainglorious 
life,  such  as  all  people  undergo,  he  never  once  changed 
his  usual  calm  character,  his  lofty  manner  of  thought, 
nor  his  well-grounded  principles  of  religion  and  morality, 
and  won  universal  respect,  which  was  founded  not  so 
much  on  his  brilliant  position  as  upon  his  firmness  and 
trustworthiness.  His  mind  was  small ;  but,  thanks  to  a 
position  which  permitted  him  to  look  down  upon  all  the 
vain  bustle  of  life,  his  cast  of  thought  was  elevated.  He 
was  kind  and  feeling,  but  cold  and  somewhat  haughty 
in  his  intercourse  with  others.  This  arose  from  the  cir- 
cumstance that  he  was  placed  in  a  position  where  he 
could  be  of  use  to  many  people,  and  he  endeavored  by 
his  cold  manner  to  protect  himself  against  the  incessant 
petitions  and  appeals  of  persons  who  only  wished  to 
take  advantage  of  his  influence.  But  this  coldness  was 
softened  by  the  condescending  courtesy  of  a  man  of  tJie 
very  highest  society. 

He  was  cultivated  and  well-read;  but  his  cultivation 
stopped  at  what  he  had  acquired  in  his  youth,  that  is  to 
say,  at  the  close  of  the  last  century.  He  had  read  every- 
thing of  note  which  had  been  written  in  France  on  the 
subject  of  philosophy  and  eloquence  during  the  eigh- 
teenth century;  he  was  thoroughly  acquainted  with  all 
the  best  products  of  French  literature,  so  that  he  was 
able  to  quote  passages  from  Racine,  Corneille,  Boileau, 
Moliere,  Montaigne,  and  Fenelon,  and  was  fond  of  doing 
so  ;  he  possessed  a  brilliant  knowledge  of  mythology,  and 
had  studied  with  profit  the  ancient  monuments  of  epic 
poetry  in  the  French  translations ;  he  had  acquired  a 
sufficient  knowledge  of  history  from  Segur;  but  he  knew 
nothing  at  all  of  mathematics  beyond  arithmetic,  nor  of 
physics,  nor  of  contemporary  literature;  he  could  main- 


CHILDHOOD  6s 

tain  a  courteous  silence  in  conversation,  or  utter  a  few 
commonplaces  about  Goethe,  ^chiller,  and  Byron,  but 
he  had  never  read  them.  In  spite  of  this  French  and 
classical  cultivation,  of  which  so  few  examples  still  exist, 
his  conversation  was  simple  ;  and  yet  this  simplicity  con- 
cealed his  ignorance  of  various  things,  and  exhibited 
tolerance  and  an  agreeable  tone.  He  was  a  great 
enemy  of  all  originality,  declaring  that  originality  is 
the  bait  of  people  of  bad  tone.  Society  was  a  neces- 
sity to  him,  wherever  he  might  be  living;  whether  in 
Moscow  or  abroad,  he  always  lived  generously,  and  on 
certain  days  received  all  the  town.  His  standing  in 
town  was  such  that  an  invitation  from  him  served  as  a 
passport  to  all  drawing-rooms,  and  many  young  and 
pretty  women  willingly  presented  to  him  their  rosy 
cheeks,  which  he  kissed  with  a  kind  of  fatherly  feeling ; 
and  other,  to  all  appearances,  very  important  and  re- 
spectable people  were  in  a  state  of  indescribable  joy 
when  they  were  admitted  to  the  prince's  parties. 

Very  few  people  were  now  left,  who,  like  grand- 
mamma, had  been  members  of  the  same  circle,  of  the 
same  age,  possessed  of  the  same  education,  the  same 
view  of  matters ;  and  for  that  reason  he  especially 
prized  the  ancient  friendly  connection  with  her,  and  al- 
ways showed  her  the  greatest  respect. 

I  could  not  gaze  enough  at  the  prince.  The  respect 
which  every  one  showed  him,  his  huge  epaulets,  the 
particular  joy  which  grandmamma  manifested  at  the 
sight  of  him,  and  the  fact  that  he  alone  did  not  fear 
her,  treated  her  with  perfect  ease,  and  even  had  the 
daring  to  address  her  as  lua  cousiiic,  inspired  me  with  a 
reverence  for  him  which  equaled  if  it  did  not  excel  that 
which  I  felt  for  grandmamma.  When  she  showed  him 
my  verses,  he  called  me  to  him,  and  said :  — 

"  Who  knows,  cousin,  but  this  may  be  another  Der- 
zhavin  } " 

Thereupon  he  pinched  my  cheek  in  such  a  painful 
manner  that  if  I  did  not  cry  out  it  was  because  T 
guessed  that  it  must  be  accepted  as  a  caress. 

The  guests  dispersed.     Papa  and  Volodya  went  out  j 


66  CHILDHOOD 

only  the  prince,  grandmamma,  and  I  remained  in  the 
drawing-room. 

"  Why  did  not  our  dear  Natalya  Nikolaevna  come  ?  " 
asked  Prince  Ivan  Ivanitch,  suddenly,  after  a  momentary 
silence. 

"Ah!  moil  clicr,''  replied  grandmamma,  bending  her 
head  and  laying  her  hand  upon  the  sleeve  of  his  uni- 
form, "  she  certainly  would  have  come  had  she  been 
free  to  do  as  she  wished.  She  writes  to  me  that  Pierre 
proposed  that  she  should  come,  but  that  she  had  refused 
because  they  had  had  no  income  at  all  this  year;  and 
she  writes :  '  Moreover,  there  is  no  reason  why  I  should 
remove  to  Moscow  this  year  with  the  whole  household. 
Liubotchka  is  still  too  young ;  and  as  for  the  boys  who 
are  to  live  with  you,  I  am  more  easy  about  them  than 
if  they  were  to  hve  with  me.'  All  that  is  very  fine!" 
continued  grandmamma,  in  a  tone  which  showed  very 
plainly  that  she  did  not  consider  it  fine  at  all.  *'  The 
boys  should  have  been  sent  here  long  ago,  in  order  that 
they  might  learn  something,  and  become  accustomed  to 
society.  What  kind  of  education  was  it  possible  to  give 
them  in  the  country }  Why,  the  eldest  will  soon  be 
thirteen,  and  the  other  eleven.  You  have  observed, 
cousin,  that  they  are  perfectly  untamed  here ;  they 
don't  know  how  to  enter  a  room." 

"But  I  don't  understand,"  replied  the  prince;  "why 
these  daily  complaints  of  reduced  circumstances  .-'  He 
has  a  very  handsome  property,  and  Natascha's  Khaba- 
rovka,  where  I  played  in  the  theater  with  you  once 
upon  a  time,  I  know  as  well  as  the  five  fingers  on  my 
own  hand.  It's  a  wonderful  estate,  and  it  must  always 
bring  in  a  handsome  revenue." 

"I  will  tell  you,  as  a  true  friend,"  broke  in  grand- 
mamma, with  an  expression  of  sadness  :  "  it  seems  to 
me  that  all  excuses  are  simply  for  the  purpose  of  allow- 
ing him  to  live  here  alone,  to  lounge  about  at  the  clubs, 
at  dinners,  and  to  do  God  knows  what  else.  But  she 
suspects  nothing.  You  know  what  an  angel  of  good- 
ness she  is ;  she  believes  him  in  everything.  He  as- 
sured her  that  it  was  necessary  to  bring  the  children  to 


CHILDHOOD  67 

Moscow,  and  to  leave  her  alone  with  that  stupid  gover- 
ness in  the  country,  and  she  believed  him.  If  he  were 
to  tell  her  that  it  was  necessary  to  whip  the  children  as 
Princess  Varvara  Ilinitchna  whips  hers,  she  would  prob- 
ably agree  to  it,"  said  grandmamma,  turning  about  in 
her  chair,  with  an  expression  of  thorough  disdain. 
"Yes,  my  friend,"  pursued  grandmamma,  after  a  mo- 
mentary pause,  taking  in  her  hand  one  of  the  two  hand- 
kerchiefs, in  order  to  wipe  away  the  tear  which  made 
its  appearance;  "I  often  think  that  Jie  can  neither  value 
her  nor  understand  her,  and  that,  in  spite  of  all  her 
jroodness  and  love  for  him,  and  her  efforts  to  conceal 
her  grief,  —  I  know  it  very  well,  —  she  cannot  be  happy 
with  him  ;  and  mark  my  words,  if  he  does  not...." 

Grandmamma  covered  her  face  with  her  handkerchief. 

"  Eh,  my  good  friend,"  said  the  prince,  reproachfully, 
"  I  see  that  you  have  not  grown  any  wiser.  You  arc 
always  mourning  and  weeping  over  an  imaginary  grief. 
Come,  are  you  not  ashamed  of  yourself  .'*  I  have  known 
him  for  a  long  time,  and  I  know  him  to  be  a  good,  at- 
tentive, and  very  fine  husband,  and,  what  is  the  princi- 
pal thing,  a  perfectly  honest  man." 

Having  involuntarily  overheard  this  conversation, 
which  I  ought  not  to  have  heard,  I  took  myself  out  of 
the  room,  on  tiptoe,  in  violent  emotion. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

THE   IVINS 

"Volodya!  Volodya !  the  Ivins!"  I  shouted,  catch- 
ing sight  from  the  window  of  three  boys  in  blue  over- 
coats, with  beaver  collars,  who  were  crossing  from  the 
<)p])osite  sidewalk  to  our  house,  headed  by  their  young 
and  dandified  tutor. 

The  Ivins  were  related  to  us,  and  were  of  about  our 
own  age ;  we  had  made  their  acquaintance  and  struck 
\\\)  a  friendship  soon  after  our  arrival  in  Moscow. 

The  second  Ivin,  Serozha,  was  a  dark-complexioned, 


68  CHILDHOOD 

curly-headed  boy,  with  a  determined,  turned-up  little 
nose,  very  fresh  red  lips,  which  seldom  completely  cov- 
ered the  upper  row  of  his  white  teeth,  very  handsome 
dark  blue  eyes,  and  a  remarkably  alert  expression  of 
countenance.  He  never  smiled,  but  cither  looked  quite 
serious,  or  laughed  heartily  with  a  distinct,  ringing,  and 
very  attractive  laugh.  His  original  beauty  struck  mc 
at  first  sight.  I  felt  for  him  an  unconquerable  liking. 
It  was  sufficient  for  my  happiness  to  see  him  :  at  one 
time,  all  the  powers  of  my  soul  were  concentrated  upon 
this  wish ;  when  three  or  four  days  chanced  to  pass 
without  my  having  seen  him,  I  began  to  feel  bored  and 
sad  even  to  tears.  All  my  dreams,  both  waking  and 
sleeping,  were  of  him  ;  when  I  lay  down  to  sleep,  I 
willed  to  dream  of  him  ;  when  I  shut  my  eyes,  I  saw 
him  before  me,  and  cherished  the  vision  as  the  greatest 
bliss.  I  could  not  have  brought  myself  to  confess  this 
feeling  to  any  one  in  the  world,  so  greatly  did  I  prize 
it.  He  evidently  preferred  to  play  with  Volodya  and  to 
talk  with  him,  rather  than  with  me,  possibly  because  it 
annoyed  him  to  feel  my  restless  eyes  constantly  fixed 
upon  him,  or  simply  because  he  felt  no  sympathy  for 
me :  but  nevertheless  I  was  content ;  I  desired  nothing, 
demanded  nothing,  and  was  ready  to  sacrifice  everything 
for  him.  Besides  the  passionate  attachment  with  which 
he  inspired  me,  his  presence  aroused  another  feeling  in 
a  no  less  powerful  degree,  —  a  fear  of  paining  or  offend- 
ing him  in  any  way,  or  of  displeasing  him.  I  felt  as 
much  fear  for  him  as  love,  perhaps  because  his  face 
had  a  haughty  expression,  or  because,  despising  my  own 
appearance,  I  valued  the  advantage  of  beauty  too  highly 
in  others,  or,  what  is  most  probable  of  all,  because  this 
is  an  infallible  sign  of  love.  The  first  time  Serozha 
spoke  to  me,  I  lost  my  wits  to  such  a  degree  at  this 
unexpected  bliss,  that  I  turned  pale,  blushed,  and  could 
make  no  reply.  He  had  a  bad  habit  of  fixing  his  eyes 
upon  some  one  spot,  when  he  was  thinking,  and  of 
winking  incessantly,  at  the  same  time  twitching  his 
nose  and  eyebrows.  Every  one  thought  that  this  trick 
spoiled  him  ;  but  I   thought  it   so  charming  that   I    in- 


CHILDHOOD  69 

voluntarily  acquired  the  same  habit ;  and  a  few  days 
after  I  had  become  acquainted  with  him,  grandmamma 
inquired,  Did  my  eyes  pain  me,  that  I  was  blinking  like 
an  owl?  Not  a  word  about  love  was  ever  uttered  be- 
tween us;  but  he  felt  his  power  over  me,  and  exercised 
it  unconsciously  but  tyrannically  in  our  childish  inter- 
course. And,  no  matter  how  hard  I  tried  to  tell  him 
all  that  was  in  my  mind,  I  was  too  much  afraid  of  him 
to  resolve  on  frankness ;  I  endeavored  to  seem  indiffer- 
ent, and  submitted  to  him  without  a  murmur.  At  times 
his  influence  appeared  to  me  oppressive,  intolerable ; 
but  it  was  not  in  my  power  to  escape  from  it. 

It  saddens  me  to  think  of  that  fresh,  beautiful  feeling: 
of  unselfish  and  unbounded  love,  which  died  away  with- 
out having  found  vent,  or  met  with  a  return. 

It  is  strange  how,  when  I  was  a  child,  I  strove  to  be 
like  a  grown-up  person,  and  how,  since  I  have  ceased  to 
be  a  child,  I  have  often  longed  to  be  like  one. 

How  many  times  did  this  desire  not  to  seem  like  a 
child  in  my  intercourse  with  Serozha  restrain  the  feeling 
which  was  ready  to  pour  forth,  and  cause  me  to  dissimu- 
late !  I  not  only  did  not  dare  to  kiss  him,  which  I  very 
much  wanted  to  do  at  times,  to  take  his  hand,  to  tell 
him  that  I  was  glad  to  see  him,  but  I  did  not  even  dare 
to  call  him  Serozha,  but  kept  strictly  to  Sergie'i.  So  it 
was  settled  between  us.  Every  expression  of  sentiment 
betrayed  childishness,  and  that  he  who  permitted  him- 
self anything  of  the  sort  was  still  a  little  boy.  Without 
having,  as  yet,  gone  through  those  bitter  trials  which 
lead  adults  to  caution  and  coldness  in  their  intercourse 
with  each  other,  we  deprived  ourselves  of  the  pure  en- 
joyment of  tender,  childish  affection,  simply  through  the 
strange  desire  to  imitate  groivn-np  people. 

I  met  the  Ivins  in  the  anteroom,  exchanged  greetings 
with  them,  and  then  flew  headlong  to  grandmamma.  I 
announced  that  the  Ivins  had  arrived  ;  and,  from  my 
expression,  one  would  have  supposed  that  this  news 
must  render  her  completely  happy.  Then,  without 
taking  my  eyes  from  Serozha,  I  followed  him  into  the 
drawing-room,  watching  his    every   movement.     While 


70 


CHILDHOOD 


grandmamrna  was  telling  him  that  he  had  grown  a 
great  deal,  and  fixed  her  penetrating  eyes  upon  him, 
I  experienced  that  sensation  of  terror  and  hope  which 
a  painter  must  experience  when  he  is  awaiting  the  ver- 
dict upon  his  work  from  a  judge  whom  he  respects. 

Herr  Frost,  the  Ivins'  young  tutor,  with  grandmam- 
ma's permission,  went  into  the  little  garden  with  us, 
seated  himself  on  a  green  bench,  crossed  his  legs  pic- 
turesquely, placing  between  them  a  cane  with  a  bronze 
head,  and  began  to  smoke  his  cigar  with  the  air  of  a 
man  who  is  very  well  satisfied  with  his  own  conduct. 

Herr  Frost  was  a  German,  but  a  German  of  a  very 
different  stamp  from  our  good  Karl  Ivanitch.  In  the 
first  place  he  spoke  Russian  correctly,  he  spoke  French 
with  a  bad  accent,  and  generally  enjoyed,  especially 
among  the  ladies,  the  reputation  of  being  a  very  learned 
man;  in  the  second  place,  he  wore  a  red  mustache,  a 
big  ruby  pin  in  his  black  satin  cravat,  the  ends  of  which 
were  tucked  under  his  suspenders,  and  light  blue 
trousers  with  spring  bottoms  and  straps;  in  the  third 
place  he  was  young,  had  a  handsome,  self-satisfied  ex- 
terior, and  remarkably  fine  muscular  legs.  It  was 
evident  that  he  set  a  particular  value  on  this  last  ad- 
vantage ;  he  considered  its  effect  irresistible  on  mem- 
bers of  the  female  sex,  and  it  must  have  been  with  this 
view  that  he  tried  to  exhibit  his  legs  in  the  most  con- 
spicuous place,  and,  whether  standing  or  sitting,  always 
put  his  calves  in  motion.  He  was  a  type  of  the  young 
Russian  German  who  aspires  to  be  a  gay  fellow  and  a 
lady's  man.   . 

It  was  very  lively  in  the  garden.  Our  game  of 
robbers  could  not  have  been  more  successful ;  but  one 
circumstance  came  near  ruining  everything.  Serozha 
was  the  robber ;  as  he  was  hastening  in  pursuit  of 
travelers,  he  stumbled,  and  in  full  flight  .struck  his  knee 
with  so  much  force  against  a  tree  that  I  thought  he  had 
shivered  it  into  splinters.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  I 
was  the  gendarme,  and  that  my  duty  consisted  in  cap- 
turing him,  I  approached,  and  sympathetically  inquired 
whether  he  had  hurt  himself.     Serozha  got  angry  with 


CHILDHOOD  71 

me;  he  clenched  his  fists,  stamped  his  foot,  and  in  a 
voice  which  plainly  betrayed  that  he  had  injured  him- 
self badly,  he  shouted  at  me  :  — 

"Well,  what 's  this?  After  this  we  '11  have  no  more 
games!  Come,  why  don't  you  catch  me?  why  don't 
you  catch  me?  "  he  repeated  several  times,  glancing 
sideways  at  Volodya  and  the  elder  Ivin,  who,  in  their 
character  of  travelers,  were  leaping  and  running  along 
the  path ;  and  all  at  once  he  gave  a  shriek,  and  rushed 
after  them  with  a  loud  laugh. 

I  cannot  describe  how  this  heroic  conduct  impressed 
and  captivated  me.  In  spite  of  the  terrible  pain,  he  not 
only  did  not  cry,  but  he  did  not  even  show  that  he  wa.s 
hurt,  and  never  for  a  moment  forgot  the  game. 

Shortly  after  this,  when  Ilinka  Grap  also  joined  our 
company,  and  we  went  up-stairs  to  wait  for  dinner, 
Serozha  had  another  opportunity  of  enslaving  and 
amazing  me  with  his  marvelous  manliness  and  firmness 
of  character. 

Ilinka  Grap  was  the  son  of  a  poor  foreigner  who  had 
once  lived  at  my  grandfather's,  was  indebted  to  him  in 
some  way,  and  now  considered  it  his  imperative  duty  to 
send  his  son  to  us  very  often.  If  he  supposed  that  an 
acquaintance  with  us  could  afford  any  honor  or  satis- 
faction to  his  son,  he  was  entirely  mistaken  ;  for  we  not 
only  did  not  make  friends  with  Ilinka,  but  we  only 
noticed  him  when  we  wanted  to  make  fun  of  him. 
Ilinka  Grap  was  a  thin,  tall,  pale  boy  of  thirteen,  with  a 
bird-like  face  and  a  good-naturedly  submissive  expres- 
sion. He  was  very  poorly  dressed,  but  his  hair  was 
always  so  excessively  greased  that  we  declared  that,  on 
sunny  days,  Grap's  pomade  melted  and^  trickled  down 
under  his  jacket.  As  I  recall  him  now,  I  find  that  he 
was  very  willing  to  be  of  service,  and  a  very  quiet,  kind 
boy ;  but  at  that  time  he  appeared  to  me  as  a  con- 
temptible being,  whom  it  was  not  necessary  to  pity  or 
even  to  think  of. 

When  the  game  of  robbers  came  to  an  end,  we  went 
up-stairs  and  began  to  cut  capers,  and  to  show  off  vari- 
ous gymnastic  tricks  before  each  other.     Ilinka  watched 


72  CHILDHOOD 

us  with  a  timid  smile  of  admiration,  and  when  we  pro- 
posed to  him  to  do  the  same,  he  refused,  saying  that  he 
had  no  strength  at  all.  Serozha  was  wonderfully  charm- 
ing. He  took  off  his  jacket.  His  cheeks  and  eyes 
were  blazing ;  he  laughed  incessantly,  and  invented  new 
tricks ;  he  leaped  over  three  chairs  placed  in  a  row, 
trundled  all  over  the  room  like  a  wheel,  stood  on  his  head 
on  Tatischeff' s  lexicon,  which  he  placed  in  the  middle 
of  the  room  for  a  pedestal,  and  at  the  same  time  cut 
such  funny  capers  with  his  feet  that  it  was  impossible 
to  refrain  from  laughing.  After  this  last  performance 
he  became  thoughtful,  screwed  up  his  eyes,  and  went 
up  to  Ilinka  with  a  perfectly  sober  face.  "  Try  to  do 
that;  it  really  is  not  difificult."  Grap,  perceiving  that 
general  attention  was  directed  to  him,  turned  red,  and 
declared,  in  a  scarcely  audible  voice,  that  he  could  do 
nothing  of  the  kind. 

"  And  why  won't  he  show  off  anyway  .-*  What  a  girl 
he  is!  he  must  stand  on  his  head." 

And  Serozha  took  him  by  the  hand. 

"  You  must,  you  must  stand  on  your  head !  "  we  all 
shouted,  surrounding  Ilinka,  who  at  that  moment  was 
visibly  terrified,  and  turned  pale ;  then  we  seized  his 
arms,  and  dragged  him  to  the  lexicon. 

"  Let  me  go,  I  '11  do  it  myself !  You  '11  tear  my 
jacket,''  cried  the  unhappy  victim.  But  these  cries  of 
despair  imparted  fresh  animation  to  us ;  we  were  dying 
with  laughter;  the  green  jacket  was  cracking  in  every 
seam. 

Volodya  and  the  eldest  Ivin  bent  his  head  down  and 
placed  it  on  the  dictionary  ;  Serozha  and  I  seized  the 
poor  boy's  thin  legs,  which  he  flourished  in  all  directions, 
stripped  up  his  trousers  to  the  knee,  and  with  great 
laughter  turned  them  uj) ;  the  youngest  Ivin  preserved 
the  equilibrium  of  his  whole  body. 

After  our  noisy  laughter,  we  all  became  suddenly 
silent ;  and  it  was  so  quiet  in  the  room,  that  the  unfor- 
tunate Grap's  breathing  alone  was  audible.  At  that 
moment  I  was  by  no  means  thoroughly  convinced  that 
all  this  was  so  very  laughable  and  amusing. 


CHILDHOOD  7J 

"There's  a  fine  fellow,  now,"  said  Serozha,  slapping 
him. 

Ilinka  remained  silent,  and  in  his  endeavor  to  free 
himself  flung  his  legs  out  in  all  directions.  In  one  of 
these  desperate  movements,  he  struck  Serozha  in  the 
eye  with  his  heel  in  such  a  painful  manner,  that  Serozha 
immediately  released  his  leg,  clasped  his  own  eye,  from 
which  the  unbidden  tears  were  streaming,  and  pushed 
Ilinka  with  all  his  might.  Ilinka,  being  no  longer  sup- 
ported by  us,  went  down  on  the  floor  with  a  crash,  like 
some  lifeless  object,  and  all  he  could  utter  for  his  tears 
was :  — 

"  Why  do  you  tyrannize  over  me  so  .■'  " 

The  woeful  figure  of  poor  Ilinka,  with  his  tear-stained 
face,  disordered  hair,  and  his  tucked-up  trousers,  under 
which  his  dirty  boot-legs  were  visible,  impressed  us ;  we 
did  not  speak,  and  we  tried  to  smile  in  a  constrained 
fashion. 

Serozha  was  the  first  to  recover  himself. 

"  There  's  a  woman,  a  cry-baby,"  he  said,  pushing  him 
lightly  with  his  foot ;  "  it 's  impossible  to  joke  with  him. 
Come,  enough  of  that ;  get  up." 

"  I  told  you  that  you  were  a  good-for-nothing  little 
boy,"  said  Ilinka,  angrily,  and  turning  away  he  sobbed 
loudly. 

"What!  you  use  your  heels,  and  then  scold!"  screamed 
Serozha,  seizing  the  lexicon  and  swinging  it  over  the 
head  of  the  wretched  boy,  who  never  thought  of  defend- 
ing himself,  and  only  covered  his  head  with  his  hands. 

"There!  there!  Let's  drop  him,  if  he  can't  under- 
stand a  joke.  Let 's  go  down-stairs,"  said  Serozha, 
laughing  in  an  unnatural  way. 

I  gazed  with  sympathy  at  the  poor  fellow,  who  lay  on 
the  floor,  hiding  his  face  on  the  lexicon,  and  crying  so 
that  it  seemed  as  if  he  were  on  the  point  of  dying  of  the 
convulsions  which  shook  his  whole  body. 

"Hey,  Sergiei !  "  I  said  to  him,  "why  did  you  do 
that.?" 

"That's  good!  I  didn't  cry,  I  hope,  when  I  cut  my 
knee  nearly  to  the  bone  to-day." 


74 


CHILDHOOD 


"Yes,  that's  true,"  I  thought ;  "  Ilinka  is  nothing  but 
a  cry-baby ;  but  there  's  Serozha,  he  is  so  brave.  What 
a  manly  fellow  he  is !  " 

I  had  no  idea  that  the  poor  boy  was  crying,  not  so 
much  from  physical  pain,  as  from  the  thought  that  five 
boys,  whom  he  probably  liked,  had  all  agreed,  without 
any  cause,  to  hate  and  persecute  him. 

I  really  cannot  explain  to  myself  the  cruelty  of  this 
conduct.  Why  did  I  not  go  to  him,  protect  him,  com- 
fort him  ?  What  had  become  of  that  sentiment  of  pity, 
which  had  formerly  made  me  cry  violently  at  the  sight 
of  a  young  daw  which  had  been  thrown  from  its  nest, 
or  a  puppy  which  was  to  be  thrown  out  of  the  garden, 
or  a  chicken  which  the  cook  was  carrying  off  for  soup  ? 

Had  this  beautiful  feeling  been  destroyed  in  me,  by 
love  for  Serozha,  and  the  desire  to  appear  as  manly  in 
his  sight  as  he  was  himself  ?  That  love  and  that  desire 
to  appear  manly  were  not  enviable  qualities.  They 
were  the  cause  of  the  only  dark  spots  in  the  pages  of 
my  childish  memories. 


CHAPTER    XX 

THE   GUESTS   ASSEMBLE 

Judging  from  the  special  activity  perceptible  in  the 
butler's  pantry,  the  brilliant  illumination  which  imparted 
a  new  and  festive  aspect  to  objects  in  the  drawing-room' 
and  hall,  which  had  long  been  familiar  to  me,  and  par- 
ticularly judging  from  the  fact  that  Prince  Ivan  Ivanitch 
would  not  have  sent  his  music  for  nothing,  a  large  num- 
ber of  guests  were  expected  for  the  evening. 

I  ran  to  the  window  at  the  sound  of  every  passing 
carriage,  put  the  palms  of  my  hand  to  my  temples  and 
against  the  glass,  and  gazed  into  the  street  with  im- 
patient curiosity.  Through  the  darkness,  which  at  first 
covered  all  objects  from  the  window,  there  gradually 
appeared,  across  the  way,  a  long  familiar  shop,  with  a 
lantern ;    in   an   oblique    line,   a  large  house  with    two 


CHILDHOOD  75 

lighted  windows  on  the  lower  floor ;  in  the  middle  of 
the  street  some  Vanka}  with  two  passengers,  or  an 
empty  calash  returning  home  at  a  foot-pace ;  but  now 
a  carriage  drove  up  to  the  porch,  and  in  the  full  convic- 
tion that  it  was  the  Ivins,  who  had  promised  to  come 
early,  I  ran  down  to  meet  them  in  the  anteroom.  In- 
stead of  the  Ivins,  two  ladies  made  their  appearance 
behind  the  liveried  arm  which  opened  the  door :  one 
was  large,  and  wore  a  blue  cloak  with  a  sable  collar ; 
the  other,  who  was  small,  was  all  wrapped  up  in  a  green 
shawl,  beneath  which  her  little  feet,  shod  in  fur  boots, 
alone  were  visible.  Paying  no  attention  to  m}'^  presence 
in  the  anteroom,  although  I  considered  it  m^^  duty  to 
make  my  bow  when  these  persons  appeared,  the  little 
one  silently  walked  up  to  the  big  one,  and  halted  in 
front  of  her.  The  big  one  unwound  the  kerchief  which 
covered  the  little  one's  head,  unbuttoned  her  cloak,  and 
when  the  liveried  footman  took  charge  of  these  things, 
and  pulled  off  her  little  fur  boots,  there  appeared  from 
this  much-wrapped-up  individual  a  wonderful  twelve- 
year-old  little  girl,  dressed  in  a  low-necked  white  muslin 
frock,  white  pantalets,  and  tiny  black  slippers.  There 
was  a  black  velvet  ribbon  on  her  little  white  neck  ;  her 
head  was  a  mass  of  dark  chestnut  curls  which  suited 
her  lovely  face  admirably,  and  fell  upon  her  white 
shoulders  behind  so  beautifully,  that  I  would  not  have 
believed  Karl  Ivanitch  himself  if  he  had  told  me  that 
they  curled  so  because  they  had  been  twisted  up  in  bits 
of  TJie  Moscozv  Gazette  ever  since  the  morning,  and 
pinched  with  hot  irons.  She  seemed  to  have  been  born 
with  that  curly  head. 

A  striking  feature  of  her  face  was  the  unusual  size  of 
her  prominent,  half-closed  eyes,  which  formed  a  strange 
but  agreeable  contrast  to  her  small  mouth.  Her  lips 
were  tightly  closed  ;  and  her  eyes  had  such  a  serious 
look,  and  the  general  expression  of  her  face  was  such, 
that  you  would  not  look  for  a  smile  on  it ;  and  therefore 
a  smile  was  all  the  more  enchanting. 

^  Local  term  for  a  poor,  rustic  driver,  who  enters  service  for  the  winter 
in  town. 


76  CHILDHOOD 

I  crept  to  the  door  of  the  hall,  endeavoring  to  remain 
unperceived,  and  decided  that  it  would  be  well  to  walk 
back  and  forth  feigning  meditation,  and  that  I  was  not 
aware  that  guests  had  arrived.  When  they  had  traversed 
half  the  apartment,  I  apparently  came  to  myself,  made 
my  bow,  and  informed  them  that  grandmamma  was  in 
the  drawing-room.  Madame  Valakhin,  whose  face 
pleased  me  extremely,  especially  because  I  discerned 
in  it  a  strong  resemblance  to  her  daughter  Sonitchka, 
nodded  graciously  to  me. 

Grandmamma  appeared  to  be  very  glad  to  see  So- 
nitchka ;  she  called  her  close  to  her,  adjusted  one  of  her 
curls  which  had  fallen  over  her  forehead,  and,  gazing 
attentively  at  her  face,  she  said  in  French,  "  What  a 
charming  child ! "  Sonitchka  smiled  and  blushed  so 
prettily  that  I  blushed  also  as  I  looked  at  her. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  be  bored  here,  my  little  friend," 
said  grandmamma,  takmg  hold  of  her  chin,  and  raising 
her  little  face.  "  I  beg  that  you  will  be  merry  and  dance 
as  much  as  possible.  Here  are  one  lady  and  two  cava- 
liers," she  added,  turning  to  Madame  Valakhin,  azid 
touching  me  with  her  hand. 

This  bringing  us  together  pleased  me  so  much  tha*" 
it  made  me  blush  again. 

Conscious  that  my  shyness  was  increasing,  and  hear- 
ing the  noise  of  another  carriage  as  it  drove  up,  I  deemed 
it  best  to  make  a  retreat.  In  the  anteroom  I  found 
Princess  Kornakoff  with  her  son  and  an  incredible  num- 
ber of  daughters.  The  daughters  were  all  exactly  alike 
in  countenance,  —  they  resembled  the  princess,  and 
were  ugly  ;  therefore  no  one  of  them  arrested  my  atten- 
tion. As  they  took  off  their  cloaks,  and  shook  out  their 
trains,  they  all  began  suddenly  to  talk  in  thin  little  voices 
as  they  fussed  and  laughed  at  something  —  probably  be- 
cause there  were  so  many  of  them.  Etienne  was  a  tall, 
fleshy  lad  of  fifteen,  with  a  thin,  bloodless  face,  sunken 
eyes  with  blue  circles  beneath  them,  and  hands  and  feet 
which  were  enormous  for  his  age  ;  he  was  awkward, 
had  a  rough  and  disagreeable  voice,  but  appeared  very 
well  satisfied  with  himself,  and,  according  to  my  views, 


CHILDHOOD  77 

he  was  precisely  the  sort  of  boy  who  gets  whipped  with 
a  switch. 

Wc  stood  for  quite  a  while  opposite  each  other,  with- 
out uttering  a  word,  examining  each  other  attentively. 
Then  we  approached  a  little  nearer,  apparently  with 
the  desire  to  kiss  each  other,  but  we  changed  our  minds, 
for  some  reason  or  other,  after  we  had  looked  into  each 
other's  eyes  again.  When  the  dresses  of  all  his  sisters 
rustled  past  us,  I  inquired,  for  the  sake  of  beginning 
the  conversation,  whether  they  were  not  crowded  in  the 
carriage. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  answered  carelessly,  "  for  I 
never  ride  in  the  carriage,  because  just  as  soon  as  I 
take  my  seat  I  begin  to  feel  ill,  and  mamma  knows  it. 
When  we  go  anywhere  in  the  evening  I  always  sit  on 
the  box.  It 's  much  jollier ;  you  can  see  everything, 
and  Philip  lets  me  drive,  and  sometimes  I  have  the 
whip.  Sometimes  I  do  so  to  the  passers-by,"  he  added, 
with  an  expressive  gesture  ;  "  it 's  splendid  !  " 

"  Your  illustrious  highness,"  said  the  footman,  enter- 
ing the  anteroom,  "  Philip  wants  to  know  where  you 
were  pleased  to  put  the  whip  } " 

"What's  that.:*  Where  did  L  put  it.?  Why,  I  gave 
it  to  him." 

"  He  says  that  you  did  not." 

"  Well,  then  I  hung  it  on  the  lantern." 

"  Philip  says  that  it  is  not  on  the  lantern ;  and  you 
had  better  say  that  you  took  it  and  lost  it,  or  Philip  will 
have  to  pay  for  your  pranks  out  of  his  small  wages," 
continued  the  angry  footman,  with  increasing  anima- 
tion. 

The  footman,  who  seemed  to  be  a  respectable  but 
sullen  man,  appeared  to  take  Philip's  side,  and  was  re- 
solved to  clear  up  this  matter  at  any  cost.  F'rom  an 
involuntary  feeling  of  delicacy  I  stepped  aside  as  though 
I  had  observed  nothing.  But  the  lackeys  who  were 
present  behaved  quite  differently ;  they  came  nearer, 
and  gazed  approvingly  at  the  old  servant. 

"Well,  I  lost  it,  I  lost  it,"  said  Etienne,  avoiding 
further  explanations.     "  I  "11  pay  him  what  the  whip  is 


78  CHILDHOOD 

worth.  This  is  amusing  !  "  he  added,  approaching  me, 
and  leading  me  toward  the  drawing-room. 

"  No,  r.jaster,  how  will  you  pay  .''  I  know  you  have 
been  eight  months  paying  Marya  Vasilievna  twenty 
kopeks,  and  it 's  the  same  in  my  case,  and  it 's  two  years 
since  Petrushka ...." 

"  Hold  your  tongue ! "  shouted  the  young  prince, 
turning  pale  with  rage.     "  I  '11  tell  all  about  it." 

"You'll  tell  all,  vou '11  tell  all!"  went  on  the  footman. 
"  This  is  bad,  your  illustrious  highness,"  he  added,  with 
a  peculiar  expression,  as  we  entered  the  hall,  and  he 
went  to  the  wardrobe  with  the  cloaks. 

"  That 's  right,  that 's  right !  "  said  an  approving  voice 
behind  us  in  the  anteroom. 

Grandmamma  had  a  peculiar  gift  for  expressing  her 
opinion  of  people  by  adding  to  a  certain  tone,  on  cer- 
tain occasions,  the  singular  and  plural  pronouns  of  the 
second  person.  Although  she  employed  you  and  thou 
in  direct  opposition  to  the  generally  received  usage, 
these  shades  of  meaning  acquired  an  entirely  different 
significance  in  her  mouth.  When  the  young  prince  ap- 
proached her,  she  at  first  addressed  a  few  words  to  him, 
calling  him  yoii,  and  regarding  him  with  such  an  ex- 
pression of  scorn  that,  had  I  been  in  his  place,  I  should 
have  become  utterly  abashed.  But  evidently  Etienne 
was  not  a  boy  of  that  stamp  ;  he  not  only  paid  no  heed 
to  grandmamma's  reception,  but  even  to  her  person, 
and  saluted  the  whole  company,  if  not  gracefully,  at 
least  without  the  slightest  constraint.  Sonitchka  occu- 
pied all  my  attention.  I  remember  that  when  Volodya, 
Etienne,  and  I  were  talking  together  in  a  part  of  the 
room  from  which  Sonitchka  was  visible,  and  she  could 
see  and  hear  us,  I  spoke  with  pleasure ;  when  I  had 
occasion  to  utter  what  seemed  to  me  an  amusing  or 
manly  remark,  I  spoke  loudly,  and  glanced  at  the 
drawing-room  door ;  but  when  we  changed  to  another 
place,  from  which  it  was  impossible  to  be  seen  or  heard 
from  the  drawing-room,  I  remained  silent,  and  found 
no  further  pleasure  in  the  conversation. 

The    drawing-room    and    hall    gradually    filled    with 


CHILDHOOD  79 

guests.  As  always  happens  at  children's  parties,  there 
were  several  large  children  among  the  number  who 
were  not  willing  to  miss  an  opportunity  of  dancing  and 
making  merry,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  pleasing  the 
hostess. 

When  the  Ivins  arrived,  instead  of  the  pleasure  which 
I  generally  experienced  at  meeting  Serozha,  I  was  con- 
scious of  a  certain  strange  vexation  because  he  would 
see  Sonitchka  and  would  show  off  to  her. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

BEFORE    THE    MAZURKA 

"  Eh  !  you  are  evidently  going  to  have  dancing," 
said  Serozha,  coming  from  the  drawing-room,  and  pull- 
ing a  pair  of  new  kid  gloves  from  his  pocket ;  "  I  must 
put  on  my  gloves." 

"  What 's  that  for .''  we  have  no  gloves,"  I  thought ; 
"  I  must  go  up-stairs  and  hunt  for  some." 

But  although  I  rummaged  all  the  drawers,  all  I  found 
was,  in  one,  our  green  traveling  mittens ;  in  another, 
one  kid  glove  which  was  of  no  service  whatever  to  me, 
in  the  first  place,  because  it  was  very  old  and  dirty,  in 
the  second,  because  it  was  too  large  for  me,  and  espe- 
cially because  the  middle  finger  was  missing,  having 
been  cut  off  long  ago,  probably  by  Karl  Ivanitch,  for  a 
sore  hand.  Nevertheless  I  put  this  remnant  of  a  glove 
upon  my  hand,  and  regarded  intently  that  place  upon 
my  middle  finger  which  was  always  smeared  with  ink. 

"  If  Natalya  Savischna  were  only  here,  she  would 
surely  find  me  some  gloves."  It  was  impossible  to  go 
down-stairs  in  such  a  plight,  because,  if  they  asked  me 
why  I  did  not  dance,  what  could  I  say  ?  To  remain 
here  was  equally  impossible,  because  I  should  infallibly 
be  caught.  "  What  am  I  to  do  ?  "  I  said,  flourishing 
my  hands. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  .-' "  asked  Volodya,  run- 
ning in  ;  "  go  engage  your  lady,  it  will  begin  directly." 


So  CHILDHOOD 

"Volodya,"  I  said  to  him,  displaying  my  hand,  with 
two  fingers  sticking  out  of  the  dirty  glove,  and  express- 
ing in  my  voice  that  I  was  in  a  state  which  bordered 
on  despair,  —  "  Volodya,  you  never  thought  of  this." 

"Of  what?"  said  he,  impatiently.  "Ah!  gloves," 
he  added  quite  indifferently,  catching  sight  of  my  hand. 
"  No,  I  didn't,  in  fact.  You  must  ask  grandmamma. 
What  will  she  say.-*"  and,  without  pausing  to  reflect, 
he  ran  down-stairs. 

The  cold-bloodedness  with  which  he  expressed  him- 
self on  a  point  which  seemed  to  me  so  weighty  reas- 
sured me,  and  I  hastened  to  the  drawing-room,  totally 
oblivious  of  the  grotesque  glove  on  my  left  hand. 

Approaching  grandmamma's  arm-chair  with  caution, 
and  touching  her  mantle  lightly,  I  said  in  a  whis- 
per :  — 

"Grandmamma!  what  are  we  to  do .''  We  have  no 
gloves !" 

"  What,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  We  have  no  gloves,"  I  repeated,  drawing  nearer  and 
nearer,  and  laying  both  hands  on  the  arm  of  her  chair. 

"And  what  is  this.''"  she  said,  all  at  once  seeing  my 
left  hand.  "  See  here,  my  dear,"  she  went  on  in  French, 
turning  to  Madame  Valakhin,  "  this  young  man  has  made 
himself  elegant  in  order  to  dance  with  your  daughter." 

Grandmamma  held  me  firmly  by  the  hand,  and  gazed 
seriously  but  inquiringly  at  her  guests  until  all  had  sat- 
isfied their  curiosity  and  the  laugh  had  become  general. 

I  should  have  been  very  much  mortified  if  Serozha 
had  seen  me  during  the  time,  when,  frowning  with 
shame,  I  vainly  endeavored  to  tear  my  hand  free ;  but 
I  was  not  at  all  pained  in  the  presence  of  Sonitchka, 
who  laughed  until  her  eyes  were  filled  with  tears,  and 
all  her  curls  fluttered  about  her  rosy  little  face.  I  un- 
derstood that  her  laugh  was  too  loud  and  natural  to 
be  mocking ;  on  the  contrary,  we  laughed  together,  and 
seemed  to  come  nearer  to  each  other  as  we  exchanged 
glances.  This  episode  of  the  glove,  although  it  might 
end  badly,  gained  me  this  advantage,  that  it  placed  me 
on  easy  terms  with  a  circle  which  had  always  seemed  to 


CHILDHOOD  8i 

me  most  terrible,  —  the  drawing-room  circle ;  I  felt  not 
the  slightest  timidity  in  the  hall. 

The  sufferings  of  shy  people  arise  from  their  un- 
certainty as  to  the  opinion  which  people  have  formed 
of  them ;  as  soon  as  this  opinion  is  openly  demon- 
strated, —  in  whatever  form  it  may  occur,  —  this  suffer- 
ing ceases. 

How  charming  Sonitchka  Valakhin  was,  as  she  danced 
opposite  mc  in  the  French  quadrille  with  the  clumsy 
young  prince !  How  sweetly  she  smiled  when  she  gave 
me  her  little  hand  in  the  chain !  How  prettily  her 
golden  curls  waved  in  measure,  how  naively  she  brought 
her  tiny  feet  together  !  When,  in  the  fifth  figure,  my 
partner  left  me  and  went  to  the  other  side,  while  I 
waited  for  the  time  and  prepared  to  execute  my  solo, 
Sonitchka  closed  her  lips  seriously  and  looked  aside. 
But  her  fear  for  me  was  unnecessary.  I  boldly  made 
my  chasse  to  the  front,  chasse  to  the  rear,  and  my 
glide ;  and  when  I  approached  her,  I  playfully  showed 
her  my  glove  with  my  two  fingers  sticking  out.  She 
laughed  excessively,  and  her  little  feet  tripped  about 
upon  the  waxed  floor  more  bewitchingly  than  ever.  I 
still  remember  how,  when  we  formed  a  circle  and  all 
joined  hands,  she  bent  her  little  head,  and,  without  re- 
moving her  hand  from  mine,  scratched  her  little  nose 
with  her  glove.  I  can  still  see  all  this  as  though  it  were 
directly  before  my  eyes,  and  I  still  hear  the  quadrille 
from  "  The  Maid  of  the  Danube,"  to  whose  music  all 
this  took  place. 

The  second  quadrille  arrived,  and  I  danced  it  with 
Sonitchka.  After  seating  myself  beside  her,  I  felt  ex- 
tremely awkward,  and  did  not  know  in  the  least  what 
to  say  to  her.  When  my  silence  had  lasted  too  long,  I 
began  to  fear  that  she  would  take  me  for  a  fool ;  and 
I  resolved  to  rescue  her  from  any  such  error  on  my 
account,  at  any  cost.  "  You  are  an  inhabitant  of  Mos- 
cow } "  I  said  to  her  in  French  ;  and,  after  receiving  an 
answer  in  the  affirmative,  I  went  on,  "  For  my  part,  I 
have  never  yet  frequented  the  capital,"  with  a  calcula- 
tion as  to  the  effect  which  the  word  "frequent"  would 


82  CHILDHOOD 

produce.  Nevertheless,  I  felt  that  although  this  was  a 
very  brilliant  beginning,  and  fully  proved  my  knowledge 
of  the  French  tongue,  I  was  incapable  of  continuing  the 
conversation  in  this  strain.  Our  turn  to  dance  would 
not  come  very, soon,  but  the  silence  was  renewed.  I 
gazed  at  her  uneasily,  desirous  of  knowing  what  im- 
pression I  had  produced,  and  awaiting  her  assistance. 
"  Where  did  you  find  such  a  funny  glove  .'' "  she  inquired 
suddenly  ;  and  this  question  caused  me  the  greatest 
pleasure  and  relief.  I  explained  that  the  glove  be- 
longed to  Karl  Ivanitch,  went  into  some  rather  ironical 
details  concerning  Karl  Ivanitch's  person,  —  how  ridicu- 
lous he  was  when  he  took  off  his  red  cap;  and  how  he 
had  once  fallen  from  a  horse,  when  dressed  in  his  green 
overcoat,  straight  into  a  puddle,  and  so  forth.  The 
quadrille  passed  off  without  our  perceiving  it.  All  this 
was  very  delightful ;  but  why  did  I  ridicule  Karl  Iva- 
nitch ?  Should  I  have  lost  Sonitchka's  good  opinion  if 
I  had  described  him  with  the  love  and  respect  which  I 
felt  for  him  .'' 

When  the  quadrille  came  to  an  end,  Sonitchka  said, 
"Thank  you,"  in  French,  with  as  sweet  an  expression 
as  though  I  had  really  deserved  her  gratitude.  I  was 
in  ecstasies.  I  was  beside  myself  with  joy,  and  did  not 
know  myself  whence  I  had  obtained  such  daring,  confi- 
dence, and  even  boldness.  "  Nothing  can  confuse  me," 
I  thought,  promenading  about  the  hall  quite  unembar- 
rassed;  "  I  am  ready  for  anything." 

Serozha  proposed  to  me  to  be  his  vis-a-vis.  "  Very 
well,"  said  I,  "  I  have  no  partner,  but  I  will  find  one." 
Casting  a  decisive  glance  about  the  room,  I  perceived 
that  all  the  ladies  were  engaged  with  the  exception  of 
one  big  girl,  who  was  standing  at  the  parlor  door.  A 
tall  young  man  approached  her  with  the  intention,  as 
I  concluded,  of  inviting  her  to  dance ;  he  was  within  a 
couple  of  paces  of  her,  but  I  was  at  the  other  end  of 
the  hall.  In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  I  flew  across  the 
space  which  separated  me  from  her,  sliding  gracefully 
over  the  polished  floor,  and  with  a  scrape  of  my  foot 
and  a   firm  voice,   I    invited  her  for  the   contra-dance. 


CHILDHOOD  83 

The  big  girl  smiled  patronizingly,  gave  me  her  hand, 
and  the  young  man  was  left  partnerless. 

I  was  so  conscious  of  my  power,  that  I  paid  no  heed 
to  the  young  man's  vexation  ;  but  I  afterwards  learned 
that  he  inquired  who  that  frowsy  boy  was,  who  had 
lumped  in  front  of  him  and  taken  away  his  partner. 


CHAPtER   XXII 

THE    MAZURKA 

The  young  man  whom  I  had  robbed  of  his  lady 
danced  in  the  first  couple  of  the  mazurka.  He  sprang 
from  his  place,  holding  his  lady  by  the  hand,  and,  in- 
stead of  making  the/rt-v  de  Basques  as  Mimi  had  taught 
us,  he  simply  ran  forward.  When  he  had  reached  the 
corner,  he  halted,  stamped  his  heels,  spread  his  legs 
apart,  turned  around,  and  went  skipping  on  farther. 

As  I  had  no  partner  for  the  mazurka,  I  sat  behind 
grandmamma's  high  chair,  and  looked  on. 

"Why  does  he  do  that.?"  I  pondered.  "That's  not 
at  all  as  Mimi  taught  us.  She  declared  that  everybody 
danced  the  mazurka  on  their  toes,  bringing  their  feet 
round  in  a  gliding  circular  form  ;  and  it  turns  out  that 
they  don't  dance  that  way  at  all.  There  are  the  Ivins 
and  Etienne  and  all  of  them  dancing,  and  they  are  not 
doing  the  pas  dc  Basques.  And  our  Volodya  has  picked 
up  the  new  fashion  !  It 's  not  bad  !  And  how  lovely 
Sonitchka  is  !     There  she  goes  !  " 

I  was  very  merry. 

The  mazurka  was  nearing  its  end.  Several  elderly 
ladies  and  gentlemen  came  up  to  take  leave  of  grand- 
mamma, and  departed.  The  lackeys,  skilfully  keeping 
out  of  the  way  of  the  dancers,  brought  the  dishes  into 
the  back  rooms.  Grandmamma  was  evidently  weary, 
and  seemed  to  speak  unwillingly  and  in  a  very  drawling 
way ;  the  musicians  indolently  began  the  same  air  for 
the  thirtieth  time.  The  big  girl  with  whom  I  had 
danced  caught  sight  of  me  as  she  was  going  through 


84  CHILDHOOD 

a  figure,  and,  smiling  treacherously,  —  she  must  have 
wanted  to  please  grandmamma,  —  she  led  Sonitchka 
and  one  of  the  innumerable  princesses  up  to  me, 
"  Rose  or  nettle  ? "  said  she,  in  French. 

"  Ah,  so  you  are  here !  "  said  grandmamma,  turning 
round  in  her  chair.     "  Go,  my  dear,  go." 

Although  at  that  moment  I  would  much  rather  have 
hid  my  head  under  grandmamma's  chair,  than  emerge 
from  behind  it,  how  could  I  refuse .''  I  stood  up,  and 
said  "  Rose,"  as  I  glanced  timidly  at  Sonitchka.  Before 
I  could  recover  myself,  some  one's  hand  in  a  white  kid 
glove  rested  in  mine,  and  the  princess  started  forward 
with  a  pleasant  smile,  without  the  least  suspicion  that  I 
did  not  in  the  least  know  what  to  do  with  my  feet. 

I  knew  that  the  pas  de  Basques  was  out  of  place,  un- 
suitable, and  that  it  might  even  put  me  to  shame;  but 
the  well-known  sounds  of  the  mazurka,  acting  upon  my 
ear,  communicated  a  familiar  movement  to  the  acoustic 
nerves,  which,  in  turn,  communicated  it  to  my  feet ;  and 
the  latter,  quite  involuntarily,  and  to  the  amazement  of 
all  beholders,  began  the  fatal  circular  gliding  step  on 
the  tips  of  the  toes.  As  long  as  we  proceeded  straight 
ahead,  we  got  on  after  a  fashion ;  but  when  we  turned 
I  observed  that,  unless  I  took  some  precautions,  I 
should  certainly  get  in  advance.  In  order  to  avoid  such 
a  catastrophe  I  stopped  short,  with  the  intention  of 
making  the  same  kind  of  knee  which  the  young  man  in 
the  first  couple  made  so  beautifully.  But  at  the  very 
moment  when  I  separated  my  feet,  and  was  preparing 
to  spring,  the  princess,  circling  hastily  around  me, 
looked  down  at  my  feet  with  an  expression  of  stupid 
curiosity  and  amazement.  That  look  finished  me.  I 
lost  my  self-command  to  such  an  extent  that,  instead  of 
dancing,  I  stamped  my  feet  up  and  down  in  one  spot  in 
a  fashion  which  resembled  nothing  on  earth,  and  iinally 
came  to  a  dead  standstill.  Every  one  stared  at  me, 
some  with  surprise,  others  with  curiosity,  with  amuse- 
ment, or  sympathy ;  grandmamma  alone  looked  on  with 
complete  indifference. 

"You   should   not   dance   if  you  do  not   know  how," 


CHILDHOOD  85 

said  papa's  angry  voice  in  my  ear ;  and,  thrusting  me 
aside  with  a  light  push,  he  took  my  partner's  hand, 
danced  a  turn  with  her  in  antique  fashion,  to  the  vast 
delight  of  the  lookers-on,  and  led  her  to  her  seat.  The 
mazurka  immediately  came  to  an  end. 

Lord  !  why  dost  thou  chastise  me  so  terribly. 
*  *  *  *  ■#  # 

"Everybody  despises  me,  and  will  always  scorn  me. 
The  paths  to  everything,  love,  friendship,  honor,  are 
shut  to  me.  All  is  lost !  Why  did  Volodya  make  signs 
to  me  which  every  one  saw,  and  which  could  render  me 
no  assistance  .''  Why  did  that  hateful  princess  look  at  my 
feet  like  that  ?  Why  did  Sonitchka  —  she  was  lovely,  but 
why  did  she  smile  just  then  ?  Why  did  papa  blush,  and 
seize  my  hand.-*  was  even  he  ashamed  of  me.-*  Oh,  this 
was  frightful !  If  mamma  had  been  there,  she  would 
not  have  blushed  for  her  Nikolenka."  And  my  fancy 
bore  me  far  away  to  this  sweet  vision.  I  recalled  the 
meadow  in  front  of  the  house,  the  tall  linden  trees  in 
the  garden,  the  clear  pond  over  which  the  swallows 
fluttered,  the  blue  sky  in  which  hung  transparent  white 
clouds,  the  perfumed  stacks  of  fresh  hay ;  and  many 
other  joyous,  soothing  memories  were  borne  in  upon  my 
distracted  imagination. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

AFTER    THE    MAZURKA 

At  supper,  the  young  man  who  had  danced  in  the  first 
couple  sat  down  at  our  children's  table,  and  paid  spe- 
cial attention  to  me,  which  would  have  flattered  my  van- 
ity not  a  little,  if  I  had  been  capable  of  any  sentiment 
whatever  after  the  catastrophe  which  had  occurred  to 
me.  But  the  young  man  seemed  determined  to  cheer 
me  up  on  any  terms.  He  played  with  me,  he  called  me 
a  fine  fellow  ;  and,  when  none  of  the  grown-up  people 
were  looking  at  us,  he  poured  me  glasses  of  wine  out  of 
various  bottles,  and  made  me  drink  them.     At  the  end 


86  CHILDHOOD 

of  the  supper,  when  the  butler  poured  me  only  a  quarter 
of  a  glass  of  champagne  from  his  napkin-wrapped  bottle, 
and  the  young  man  insisted  that  he  should  pour  it  full, 
and  made  me  swallow  it  at  one  gulp,  I  felt  an  agreeable 
glow  through  all  my  body,  and  a  special  kindliness 
toward  my  jolly  protector,  and  I  laughed  excessively 
over  something. 

All  at  once  the  sounds  of  the  grandfather  datice  re- 
sounded from  the  hall,  and  the  guests  began  to  rise 
from  the  table.  My  friendship  with  the  young  man 
immediately  came  to  an  end  ;  he  went  off  to  the  big 
people,  and  I,  not  daring  to  follow,  approached  with  a 
curiosity  to  hear  what  Madame  Valakhin  was  saying  to 
her  daughter. 

"  Just  another  little  half-hour,"  said  Sonitchka,  en- 
treatingly. 

"  It  is  really  impossible,  my  angel." 

"  Come,  for  my  sake,  please,"  she  said  coaxingly. 

"  Will  it  make  you  happy  if  I  am  ill  to-morrow  .''  "  said 
Madame  Valakhin,  and  was  so  imprudent  as  to  smile. 

"  Oh,  you  permit  it !  we  may  stay  .''  "  cried  Sonitchka, 
dancing  with  joy. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  with  you  .-'  Well  then,  go 
dance.  Here  's  a  cavalier  for  you,"  she  said,  pointing  at 
me. 

Sonitchka  gave  me  her  hand,  and  we  ran  into  the 
hall. 

The  wine  which  I  had  drunk,  Sonitchka's  presence 
and  gayety,  caused  me  completely  to  forget  my  mis- 
erable scrape  in  the  mazurka.  I  cut  the  most  amusing 
capers  with  my  feet ;  I  imitated  a  horse,  and  went  at  a 
gentle  trot,  lifting  my  legs  proudly  ;  then  I  stamped  on 
one  spot  like  a  ram  who  is  angry  at  a  dog,  and  laughed 
heartily  without  caring  in  the  least  what  impression  I 
might  produce  upon  the  spectators.  Sonitchka,  too, 
never  ceased  to  laugh  ;  she  laughed  when  we  circled 
round  hand  in  hand,  she  laughed  when  she  looked  at 
some  old  gentleman  who  lifted  his  feet  with  care  and 
stepped  over  a  handkerchief,  pretending  that  it  was  very 
difficult  for  him  to  do  it,  and  she  nearly  died  of  laughter 


CHILDHOOD  87 

when  I  leaped  almost  to  the  ceiling  in  order  to  display 
my  agility. 

As  I  passed  through  grandmamma's  study,  I  glanced 
at  myself  in  the  mirror :  my  face  was  bathed  in  perspi- 
ration, my  hair  was  in  disorder,  the  tuft  on  the  crown 
of  my  head  stood  up  worse  than  ever;  but  the  general 
expression  of  my  countenance  was  so  merry,  kind,  and 
healthy,  that  I  was  even  pleased  with  myself. 

"  If  I  were  always  like  this,"  I  thought,  "  I  might  be 
able  to  please." 

But  when  I  glanced  again  at  the  very  beautiful  little 
face  of  my  partner,  there  was  in  it,  besides  the  expres- 
sion of  gayety,  health,  and  freedom  from  care  which  • 
had  pleased  me  in  my  own,  so  much  gentle  and  elegant 
beauty,  that  I  was  vexed  with  myself.  I  comprehended 
how  stupid  it  was  of  me  to  hope  to  call  the  attention  of 
such  a  wonderful  being  to  myself. 

I  could  not  hope  for  a  reciprocal  feeling,  and,  indeed, 
I  did  not  think  of  it ;  my  soul  was  filled  with  bliss  inde- 
pendent of  that.  I  did  not  understand  that  in  return 
for  the  love  which  filled  my  soul  with  joy,  still  greater 
happiness  might  be  demanded,  and  that  something 
more  was  to  be  desired  than  that  this  feeling  might 
never  end.  All  was  well  with  me.  My  heart  fluttered 
like  a  dove,  the  blood  poured  into  it  incessantly,  and  I 
wanted  to  cry. 

When  we  went  through  the  corridor,  past  the  dark 
store-room  under  the  stairs,  I  glanced  at  it  and  thought  : 
'•  What  bliss  it  would  be  if  I  could  live  forever  with  her 
in  that  dark  store-room  !  and  if  nobody  knew  that  we 
lived  there." 

"It's  very  jolly  now,  isn't  it  .-* "  I  said,  in  a  quiet, 
trembling  voice,  and  hastened  my  steps,  frightened  not 
so  much  at  what  I  had  said,  but  at  what  I  had  been 
minded  to  say. 

"  Yes,  very,"  she  replied,  turning  her  little  head 
toward  me,  with  such  a  frank,  kind  expression  that 
my  fears  ceased. 

"  Especially  after  supper.  But  if  you  only  knew 
how  sorry  "  —  I  wanted  to  say  pained,  but  did  not  dare  — 


^ 


88  CHILDHOOD 

"  I  am  that  you  are  going  away  so  soon,  and  that  we 
shall  not  see  each  other  any  more  !  " 

"Why  shall  we  not  see  each  other?"  said  she,  re- 
garding intently  the  toes  of  her  slippers,  and  drawing 
her  fingers  along  the  lattice-work  screen  which  we  were 
passing.  "  Mamma  and  I  go  to  the  Tverskoy  boule- 
vard every  Tuesday  and  Friday.  Don't  you  go  to 
walk  .-'  " 

"  I  shall  ask  to  go  without  fail  on  Tuesday  ;  and  if 
they  won't  let  me  go,  I  will  run  away  alone,  and  with- 
out my  hat.     I  know  the  way." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Sonitchka,  suddenly,  "  I  always 
say  tJwH  to  some  little  boys  who  come  to  our  house; 
let  us  call  each  other  tJiou.  Wilt  thou  } "  she  added, 
throwing  back  her  little  head,  and  looking  me  straight 
in  the  eye. 

At  this  moment  we  entered  the  hall,  and  the  second, 
lively  part  of  grandfather  was  beginning.  "  Do,"  I 
said  at  a  point  when  the  noise  and  music  could  drown 
my  words. 

"Say  thou,'"'^  corrected  Sonitchka,  with  a  laugh. 

Grandfather  ended,  and  I  had  not  managed  to  utter 
a  single  phrase  with  tJion,  although  I  never  ceased 
inventing  such  as  would  allow  of  several  repetitions  of 
that  pronoun.  I  had  not  sufficient  courage.  "  Wilt 
thou .'' "  resounded  in  my  ears,  and  produced  a  kind  of 
intoxication.  I  saw  nothing  and  nobody  but  Sonitchka. 
I  saw  them  lift  her  locks,  and  tuck  them  behind  her 
ears,  disclosing  portions  of  her  brow  and  temples  which 
I  had  not  seen  before ;  I  saw  them  wrap  her  up  in  the 
green  shawl  so  closely,  that  only  the  tip  of  her  little 
nose  was  visible  ;  I  observed  that  if  she  had  not  made 
a  little  aperture  near  her  mouth  with  her  rosy  little 
fingers,  she  would  infallibly  have  suffocated  ;  and  I 
saw  how  she  turned  quickly  toward  us,  as  she  de- 
scended the  stairs  with  her  mother,  nodded  her  head, 
and  disappeared  through  the  door. 

Volodya,  the  Ivins,  the  young  prince,  and  I   were  all 

'  Nikolai  used  davai-le,  the  second  person  plural.  Sonitchka  said 
Javai,  second  person  singular. — Tk. 


CHILDHOOD  89 

in  love  with  Sonitchka,  and  we  followed  her  with  our 
eyes  as  we  stood  on  the  stairs.  I  do  not  know  to  whom 
in  particular  she  nodded  her  little  head ;  but  at  that 
moment  I  was  firmly  convinced  that  it  was  done  for  me. 

As  I  took  leave  of  the  Ivins,  I  conversed  and  shook 
hands  quite  unconstrainedly,  and  even  rather  coldly, 
with  Serozha.  If  he  understood  that  on  that  day  he 
had  lost  my  love,  and  his  power  over  me,  he  was  surely 
sorry  for  it,  though  he  endeavored  to  appear  quite 
indifferent. 

For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  had  changed  in  love, 
and  for  the  first  time  I  experienced  the  sweetness  of 
that  feeling.  It  delighted  me  to  exchange  a  worn-out 
sentiment  of  familiar  affection  for  the  fresh  feeling  of 
a  love  full  of  mystery  and  uncertainty.  Moreover,  to 
fall  out  of  love  and  into  love  at  the  same  time  means 
loving  with  twice  the  previous  fervor. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

IN    BED 

"  How  could  I  love  Serozha  so  passionately,  and  so 
long.''"  I  meditated,  as  I  lay  in  bed.  "No,  he  never 
understood,  he  never  was  capable  of  prizing  my  love, 
and  he  was  never  worthy  of  it.  And  Sonitchka .''  how 
charming  !     '  Wilt  thou  ?'     'It  is  thy  turn  to  begin.'  " 

I  sprang  up  on  all  fours,  as  I  pictured  to  myself  her 
little  face  in  lively  colors,  covered  my  head  with  the 
coverlet,  tucked  it  under  me  on  all  sides,  and  when 
no  opening  remained  anywhere,  I  lay  down,  with  a 
pleasant  sensation  of  warmth,  and  buried  myself  in 
sweet  visions  and  memories.  Fixing  my  gaze  immovably 
upon  the  lining  of  the  wadded  quilt,  I  saw  her  as  clearly 
as  I  had  seen  her  an  hour  before  ;  I  conversed  with  her 
mentally,  and  that  conversation,  though  utterly  lacking 
in  sense,  afforded  me  indescribable  delight,  because  t/iee, 
to  //iee,  and  //'///<?  occurred  in  it  constantly. 

These  visions  were  so  clear  that  I  could  not  sleep  for 


go  CHILDHOOD 

sweet  emotion,  and  I  wanted  to  share  my  superabun* 
dance  of  bliss  with  some  one. 

"  The  darling  !  "  I  said  almost  aloud,  turning  abruptly 
on  the  other  side.     "  Volodya  !  are  you  asleep .''  " 

"  No,"  he  replied,  in  a  sleepy  voice ;  "what  is  it .-'  " 

"  I  am  in  love,  Volodya.  I  am  decidedly  in  love  with 
Sonitchka." 

"  Well,  what  of  it .-'  "  he  answered,  stretching  himself. 

"  Oh,  Volodya !  you  cannot  imagine  what  is  going  on 
within  me ;  here  I  was  just  now  lying  tucked  up  in  the 
coverlet,  and  I  saw  her  so  plainly,  so  plainly,  and  I 
talked  with  her ;  it  was  simply  marvelous !  And,  do 
you  know,  when  I  lie  and  think  of  her  I  grow  sad,  and 
I  want  to  weep  dreadfully,  God  knows  why." 

Volodya  moved. 

"There's  only  one  thing  I  wish,"  I  went  on;  "that 
is,  to  be  always  with  her,  to  see  her  always,  and  nothing 
else.    And  are  you  in  love  .'*    Confess  the  truth,  Volodya ! " 

It's  odd,  but  I  wanted  everybody  to  be  in  love  with 
Sonitchka,  and  then  I  wanted  them  all  to  tell  me. 

"What  is  that  to  you.-*"  said  Volodya,  turning  his 
face  toward  me,  —  "perhaps." 

"  You  don't  want  to  sleep  ;  you  were  making  believe! " 
I  cried,  perceiving  by  his  shining  eyes  that  he  was  not 
thinking  of  sleep  in  the  least ;  and  I  flung  aside  the 
coverlet.  "Let's  discuss  her.  She's  charming,  isn't 
she  ?  So  charming  that  if  she  were  to  say  to  me : 
*  Nikolenka !  jump  out  of  the  window,  or  throw  yourself 
into  the  fire,'  —  well,  I  swear  I  should  do  it  immediately," 
said  I,  "and  with  joy.  Ah,  how  bewitching  !  "  I  added, 
as  I  called  her  before  me  in  imagination,  and  in  order 
to  enjoy  myself  in  this  manner  to  the  fullest  extent,  I 
rolled  abruptly  over  on  the  other  side,  and  thrust  my 
head  under  the  pillow.  "  I  want  to  cry  dreadfully, 
Volodya!  " 

"  What  a  fool ! "  said  he,  smiling,  and  then  was  silent 
for  a  while.  "  I  'm  not  a  bit  like  you  ;  I  think  that,  if  it 
were  possible,  I  should  like  first  to  sit  beside  her  and 
talk." 

"Ah  !  so  you  are  in  love  too.' "  I  interrupted. 


CHILDHOOD  91 

"And  then,"  continued  Volodya,  smiling  tenderly, 
"  then  I  would  kiss  her  little  fingers,  her  eyes,  her  lips, 
her  nose,  her  tiny  feet,  —  I  would  kiss  all." 

"  Nonsense !  "  cried  I,  from  under  the  pillow. 

"You  don't  understand  anything  about  it,"  said 
Volodya,  contemptuously. 

"  Yes,  I  do  understand,  but  you  don't,  and  you  're 
talking  nonsense,"  I  said,  through  my  tears. 

"  Well,  there  's  nothing  to  cry  about.  You're  a  regu 
lar  girl !  " 


CHAPTER   XXV 

THE    LETTER 

On  the  sixteenth  of  April,  nearly  six  months  after  the 
day  which  I  have  described,  father  came  up-stairs  to  us, 
during  our  lesson  hour,  and  announced  to  us  that  we 
were  to  set  out  for  the  country  with  him  that  night. 
My  heart  contracted  at  this  news,  and  my  thoughts 
turned  at  once  to  my  mother. 

The  following  letter  was  the  cause  of  our  unexpected 
departure :  — 

Petrovskoe,  April  12. 

I  have  but  just  received  your  kind  letter  of  April  3,  at  ten 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  and,  in  accordance  with  my  usual  cus- 
tom, I  answer  it  immediately.  Fedor  brought  it  from  town 
last  night,  but,  as  it  was  late,  he  gave  it  to  Mimi  this  morning. 
And  Mimi,  under  the  pretext  that  I  was  ill  and  unnerved,  did 
not  give  it  to  me  for  a  whole  day.  I  really  have  had  a  little 
fever,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  this  is  the  fourth  day  that  I  have 
been  too  ill  to  leave  my  bed. 

Pray  do  not  be  alarmed,  my  dear ;  I  feel  very  well,  and 
if  Ivan  Vasilitch  will  permit  me,  I  intend  to  get  up  to-mor- 
row. 

On  Friday  of  last  week,  I  went  to  ride  with  the  children; 
but  the  horses  stuck  in  the  mud  close  to  the  entrance  to  the 
highway,  near  that  very  bridge  which  has  always  frightened  me. 
The  day  was  very  fine,  and  I  thought  I  would  go  as  far  as  the 
highway  on  foot,  while  they  pulled  the  calash  out.     When  I 


92 


CHILDHOOD 


reached  the  chapel,  I  was  very  much  fatigued,  and  sat  down  ta 
rest ;  and  as  about  half  an  hour  elapsed  while  they  were  sum- 
moning people  to  drag  the  carriage  out,  I  felt  cold,  particularly 
in  my  feet,  for  I  had  on  thin-soled  shoes,  and  they  were  wet 
through.  After  dinner  I  felt  a  chill  and  a  hot  turn,  but  I 
continued  to  walk  according  to  the  usual  program,  and  after 
tea  I  sat  down  to  play  a  duet  with  Liubotchka.  (You  would 
not  recognize  her,  she  has  made  such  progress  !)  But  imagine 
niv  surprise,  when  I  found  that  I  could  not  count  the  time.  I 
began  to  count  several  times,  but  my  head  was  all  in  confusion, 
and  I  felt  a  strange  noise  in  my  ears.  I  counted  one,  two, 
three,  then  all  at  once  eight  and  fifteen  ;  and  the  chief  point 
was  that  I  saw  that  I  was  lying,  and  could  not  correct  myself. 
Finally  Mimi  came  to  my  assistance,  and  put  me  to  bed,  almost 
by  force.  This,  my  dear,  is  a  circumstantial  account  of  how  I 
became  ill,  and  how  I  myself  am  to  blame.  The  next  day,  I 
had  quite  a  high  fever,  and  our  good  old  Ivan  Vasilitch  came  ; 
he  still  lives  with  us,  and  promises  to  set  me  free  speedily  in 
God's  world  once  more.  A  wonderful  old  man  is  that  Ivan 
Vasilitch  !  When  I  had  the  fever,  and  was  delirious,  he  sat 
beside  my  bed  all  night,  without  closing  his  eyes  ;  and  now  he 
knows  that  I  am  writing,  he  is  sitting  in  the  boudoir  with  the 
girls,  and  from  my  bedroom  I  can  hear  him  telling  them 
German  tales,  and  them  dying  with  laughter  as  they  listen. 

La  belle  Flamande,  as  you  call  her,  has  been  staying  with  me 
for  two  weeks  past,  because  her  mother  has  gone  off  visiting 
somewhere,  and  she  evinces  the  most  sincere  affection  by  her 
care  for  me.  She  intrusts  me  with  all  her  secrets  of  the  heart. 
If  she  were  in  good  hands,  she  might  turn  out  in  every  respect 
a  very  fine  girl,  with  her  beautiful  face,  kind  heart,  and  youth  ; 
but  she  will  be  utterly  ruined  in  the  society  in  which  she  lives, 
judging  from  her  own  account.  It  has  occurred  to  me  that, 
if  I  had  not  so  many  chiklren,  I  should  be  doing  a  good  deed 
in  taking  charge  of  her. 

Liubotchka  wanted  to  write  to  you  herself;  but  she  has 
already  torn  up  the  third  sheet  of  paper,  and  says  :  "  I  know 
what  a  scoffer  papa  is  ;  if  you  make  a  single  mistake,  he  shows 
it  to  everybody."  Katenka  is  as  sweet  as  ever,  Mimi  as  good 
and  stupid. 

Now  I  will  talk  to  you  about  serious  matters.  You  write 
that  your  affairs  are  not  going  well  this  winter,  and  that  it  is 
indispensable  that  you  should  take  the  money  from  Khaba- 
ruvka.     It  surprises  me  that  you  should  even  ask  my  consent 


CHILDHOOD  93 

to  that.  Does  not  what  belongs  to  me  belong  equally  to 
you  ? 

You  are  so  kind  and  good,  my  dear,  that  you  conceal  the 
r  -al  state  of  things,  from  the  fear  of  troubling  me  :  but  I  guess 
that  you  have  probably  lost  a  great  deal  at  play,  and  I  assure 
\(:u  that  I  am  not  angry  at  you  ;  therefore,  if  the  maj;ter  can 
only  be  arranged,  pray  do  not  think  too  much  of  it,  and  do 
not  worry  yourself  needlessly.  I  have  become  accustomed  not 
to  count  upon  your  winnings  for  the  children,  but  even  (excuse 
me)  on  your  whole  estate.  Your  winnings  cause  me  as  little 
pleasure  as  your  losses  cause  pain  ;  the  only  thing  which  does 
pain  me  is  your  unhappy  passion  for  gambling,  which  deprives 
me  of  a  portion  of  your  tender  attachment,  and  makes  me  tell 
you  such  bitter  truths  as  I  tell  you  now ;  and  God  knows  how 
this  hurts  me  !  I  shall  not  cease  to  pray  God  for  one  thing, 
that  he  will  save  you,  not  from  poverty  (what  is  poverty?),  but 
from  that  frightful  situation,  when  the  interests  of  the  children, 
which  I  am  bound  to  protect,  shall  come  into  conflict  with 
ours.  Heretofore  the  Lord  has  fulfilled  my  prayer  ;  you  have 
not  passed  the  line  beyond  which  we  must  either  sacrifice  our 
property,  —  which  no  longer  belongs  to  us,  but  to  our  chil- 
dren, —  or  —  and  it  is  terrible  to  think  of,  but  this  horrible 
misfortune  continually  threatens  us.  Yes,  it  is  a  heavy  cross 
which  the  Lord  has  sent  to  both  of  us. 

You  write  about  the  children,  and  return  to  our  old  dispute  ; 
you  ask  me  to  consent  to  send  them  to  some  educational 
institution.     You  know  my  prejudices  against  such  education. 

I  do  not  know,  my  dear  friend,  whether  you  will  agree  with 
me  ;  but  I  beseech  you,  in  any  case,  to  promise,  out  of  love 
for  me,  that  as  long  as  I  live,  and  after  my  death,  if  it  shall 
please  God  to  part  us,  never  to  do  this. 

You  write  that  it  is  indispensable  that  you  should  go  to 
Petersburg  about  our  affairs.  Christ  be  with  you,  my  friend  ; 
go  and  return  as  speedily  as  possible.  It  is  so  wearisome  for 
all  of  us  without  you  !  The  spring  is  wonderfully  beautiful. 
The  balcony  door  has  already  been  taken  down,  the  paths  to 
(the  green-house  were  perfectly  dry  four  days  ago,  the  peach 
trees  are  in  full  bloom,  the  snow  lingers  in  a  few  spots  only, 
the  swallows  have  come,  and  now  Liubotchka  has  brought  me 
the  first  spring  flowers.  The  doctor  says  I  shall  be  quite  well 
in  three  days,  and  may  breathe  the  fresh  air,  and  warm  myself 
in  the  April  sun.  Farewell,  dear  friend  ;  pray  do  not  worry 
about  my  illness,  nor  about  your  losses  ;  finish  your  business  as 


94  CHILDHOOD 

speedily  as  possible,  and  come  to  us  with  the  children  for  the 
whole  summer.  I  am  making  famous  plans  for  passing  it,  and 
you  alone  are  lacking  to  their  realization. 

The  remaining  portion  of  the  letter  was  written  in 
French,  in  a  cramped  and  uneven  hand,  on  a  second 
scrap  of  paper.     I  translate  it  word  for  word  :  — 

Do  not  believe  what  I  wrote  to  you  about  my  illness  ;  no 
one  suspects  how  serious  it  is.  I  alone  know  that  I  shall  never 
rise  from  my  bed  again.  Do  not  lose  a  moment ;  come  and 
bring  the  children.  Perhaps  I  may  be  able  to  embrace  them 
once  again,  and  bless  them  ;  that  is  my  last  wish.  I  know  what 
a  terrible  blow  I  am  dealing  you,  but  it  matters  not ;  sooner 
or  later  you  would  receive  it  from  me,  or  from  others.  Let  us 
try  to  bear  this  misfortune  with  firmness,  and  hope  in  God's 
mercy.     Let  us  submit  to  His  will. 

Do  not  think  that  what  1  write  is  the  raving  of  a  delirious 
imagination  ;  on  the  contrary,  my  thoughts  are  remarkably 
clear  at  this  moment,  and  I  am  perfectly  composed.  Do  not 
comfort  yourself  vvith  vain  hopes  that  these  are  but  the  dim, 
deceitful  presentiments  of  a  timid  soul.  No,  I  feel,  I  know  — 
and  1  know  because  God  was  pleased  to  reveal  this  to  me  — • 
that  I  have  not  long  to  live. 

Will  my  love  for  you  and  the  children  end  with  this  life?  I 
know  that  this  is  impossible.  I  feel  too  strongly  at  this  moment 
to  think  that  this  feeling,  without  which  I  cannot  conceive  of 
existence,  could  ever  be  annihilated.  My  soul  cannot  exist 
without  its  love  for  you  ;  and  I  know  that  it  will  exist  forever, 
from  this  one  thing,  that  such  a  sentiment  as  my  love  could 
never  arise,  were  it  ever  to  come  to  an  end. 

I  shall  not  be  with  you,  but  I  am  firmly  convinced  that  my 
love  will  never  leave  you  ;  and  this  thought  is  so  comforting  to 
my  heart,  that  I  await  my  fast  approaching  death  calmly,  and 
without  terror. 

I  am  calm,  and  God  knows  that  I  have  always  regarded 
death,  and  still  regard  it,  as  a  passage  to  a  better  life  ;  but  why 
do  tears  crush  me?  Why  deprive  the  children  of  their  beloved 
mother?  Why  deal  you  so  heavy,  so  unlooked-for  a  blow? 
Why  must  I  die,  when  your  love  has  rendered  life  boundlessly 
happy  for  me  ? 

May  His  holy  will  l)e  done  ! 

1  can  write  no  more  for  tears.     Perhaps  I  shall  not  see  you, 


CHILDHOOD  95 

I  thank  you,  my  precious  friend,  for  all  the  happiness  with 
which  you  have  surrounded  me  in  this  life  ;  I  shall  pray  God 
there,  that  he  will  reward  you.  Farewell,  dear  friend  ;  remem- 
ber, when  I  am  no  more,  that  my  love  will  never  abandon  you, 
wherever  you  may  be.  Farewell  Volodya,  farewell  my  angel, 
farewell  Benjamin,  my  Nikolenka. 
Will  they  ever  forget  me? 

This  letter  inclosed  a  note  in  French,  from  Mimi, 
which  read  as  follows  :  — 

The  sad  presentiments  of  which  she  speaks  are  but  too  well 
confirmed  by  the  doctor's  words.  Last  night  she  ordered  thi§ 
letter  to  be  taken  to  the  post  at  once.  Thinking  that  she  said 
this  in  delirium,  I  waited  until  this  morning,  and  then  made 
up  my  mind  to  open  it.  No  sooner  had  I  done  so,  than 
Natalya  Nikolaevna  asked  me  what  I  had  done  with  the  letter, 
and  ordered  me  to  burn  it  if  it  had  not  been  sent.  She  keeps 
speaking  of  it  and  declares  that  it  will  kill  you.  Do  not  delay 
your  coming,  if  you  wish  to  see  this  angel  while  she  is  still  left 
with  us.  Excuse  this  scrawl.  I  have  not  slept  for  three  nights. 
You  know  how  I  love  her  ! 

Natalya  Savischna,  who  had  passed  the  entire  night 
of  the  eleventh  of  April  in  mamma's  chamber,  told  me 
that,  after  writing  the  first  part  of  the  letter,  mamma 
laid  it  on  the  little  table  beside  her,  and  went  to  sleep. 

"I  confess,"  said  Natalya  Savischna,  "that  I  dozed 
in  the  arm-chair  myself,  and  my  stocking  fell  from  my 
hands.  But,  about  one  o'clock,  I  heard,  in  my  dreams, 
that  she  seemed  to  be  conversing  with  some  one ;  I 
opened  my  eyes,  and  looked  ;  she  was  sitting  up  in  bed, 
my  little  dove,  with  her  little,  hands  folded  thus,  and  her 
tears  were  flowing  in  streams.  '  So  all  is  over .'' '  she 
said,  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  I  sprang 
up,  and  began  to  inquire,  '  What  is  the  matter  with 
you  .-* ' 

"  '  Ah,  Natalya  Savischna,  if  you  only  knew  whom  I 
have  just  seen  ! ' 

"  But,  in  spite  of  all  my  questions,  she  would  say  no 
more  ;  she  merely  ordered  me  to  bring  the  little  tabic, 


96  CHILDHOOD 

wrolc  something  more,  commanded  me  to  seal  the  letter 
in  her  presence,  and  send  it  off  immediately.  After 
that,  things  grew  worse  and  worse," 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

WHAT    AWAITED    US    IN    THE    COUNTRY 

On  the  twenty-fifth  of  April  we  descended  from  the 
traveling  carriage  at  the  porch  of  the  Petrovskoe  house. 
Papa  had  been  very  thoughtful  when  we  left  Moscow, 
and  when  Volodya  asked  him  whether  mamma  was  not  ill, 
lie  looked  sadly  at  him,  and  nodded  in  silence.  During 
the  journey  he  evidently  grew  more  composed ;  but  as 
we  approached  home  his  face  assumed  a  more  and  more 
mournful  expression,  and  when,  on  alighting  from  the 
calash,  he  asked  Foka,  who  ran  panting  out,  "Where 
is  Natalya  Nikolaevna  .-^ "  his  voice  was  not  firm,  and 
there  were  tears  in  his  eyes.  Good  old  Foka  glanced 
at  us,  dropped  his  eyes,  and,  opening  the  door  of  the 
anteroom,  he  turned  aside  and  answered  :  — 
"  She  has  not  left  her  room  in  six  days." 
Milka,  who,  as  I  afterwards  learned,  had  not  ceased 
to  howl  mournfully  since  the  very  day  that  mamma  was 
taken  ill,  sprang  joyously  at  papa,  leaped  upon  him, 
whined,  and  licked  his  hands ;  but  he  pushed  her  aside, 
and  went  into  the  drawing-room,  thence  into  the  boudoir, 
from  which  a  door  led  directly  into  the  bedroom.  The 
nearer  he  came  to  the  room,  the  more  evident  became 
his  disquiet,  as  was  shown  by  all  his  movements ;  as  he 
entered  the  boudoir,  he  walked  on  tiptoe,  hardly  drew 
his  breath,  and  crossed  himself  before  he  could  make 
up  his  mind  to  grasp  the  handle  of  the  closed  door.  At 
that  moment  Mimi,  disheveled  and  tear-stained,  ran  in 
from  the  corridor.  "  Ah,  Piotr  Alexandrovitch,"  she 
said,  in  a  whisper,  with  an  expression  of  genuine  de- 
spair, and  then,  observing  that  papa  was  turning  the 
handle,  she  added  almost  inaudibly,  "  it  is  impossible  to 
pass  here;  the  spring  is  gone." 


CHILDHOOD  97 

Oh,  how  sadly  this  affected  my  childish  imagination, 
which  was  attuned  to  sorrow,  with  a  fearful  forebod- 
ing! 

We  went  to  the  maids'  room.  In  the  corridor  we  en- 
countered Akim,  the  little  fool,  who  always  amused  us 
with  his  grimaces ;  but  at  that  moment  he  not  only  did 
not  seem  laughable  to  me,  but  nothing  struck  me  so 
painfully  as  his  mindless,  indifferent  face.  In  the 
maids'  room  two  maids,  who  were  sitting  over  their 
work,  rose  in  order  to  salute  us,  with  such  a  sorrowful 
expression  that  I  was  frightened.  Traversing  Mimi's 
room  next,  papa  opened  the  door  of  the  bedroom,  and 
we  entered.  To  the  right  of  the  door  were  two  win- 
dows, hung  with  cloths ;  at  one  of  them  sat  Natalya 
Savischna,  with  her  spectacles  on  her  nose,  knitting 
a  stocking".  She  did  not  kiss  us  as  she  generally  did, 
but  merely  rose,  looked  at  us  through  her  spectacles,  and 
the  tears  poured  down  her  face  in  streams.  I  did  not 
like  it  at  all  to  have  people  begin  to  cry  as  soon  as  they 
looked  at  us,  when  they  had  been  quite  calm  before. 

At  the  left  of  the  door  stood  a  screen,  and  behind  the 
screen  the  bed,  a  little  table,  a  little  cabinet  spread  with 
medicines,  and  the  big  arm-chair  in  which  dozed  the 
doctor ;  beside  the  bed  stood  a  young,  extremely  fair, 
and  remarkably  pretty  girl,  in  a  white  morning  dress, 
who,  with  her  sleeves  turned  back,  was  applying  ice  to 
mamma's  head,  which  I  could  not  see  at  that  moment. 
This  girl  was  la  belle  Flaniande,  of  whom  mamma  had 
written,  and  who,  later  on,  played  such  an  important 
role  in  the  life  of  our  whole  family.  As  soon  as  we 
entered,  she  removed  one  hand  from  mamma's  head, 
and  arranged  the  folds  on  the  bosom  of  her  gowm,  then 
said  in  a  whisper,  "  She  is  unconscious." 

I  was  very  wretched  at  that  moment,  but  I  involun- 
tarily noted  all  these  trifles.  It  was  nearly  dark  in  the 
room,  it  was  hot,  and  there  was  a  mingled  odor  of  mint, 
cologne-water,  camomile,  and  Hoffmann's  drops.  This 
odor  impressed  me  to  such  a  degree  that  when  I  smell 
it,  or  when  I  even  recall  it,  fancy  immediately  bears  me 
back    to    that    dark,   stifling   chamber,    and   reproduces 


98  CHILDHOOD 

every  detail,  even  the  most  minute,  of  that  terrible 
moment. 

Mamma's  eyes  were  open,  but  she  saw  nothing.  Oh, 
I  shall  never  forget  that  dreadful  look !  It  expressed 
so  much  suffering. 

They  led  us  away. 

When  I  afterward  asked  Natalya  Savischna  about 
mamma's  last  moments,  this  is  what  she  told  me  :  — 

"  After  you  were  taken  away,  my  dear  one  was  rest- 
less for  a  long  time  as  though  something  oppressed  her, 
then  she  dropped  her  head  on  her  pillow,  and  dozed  as 
quietly  and  peacefully  as  an  angel  from  heaven.  I  only 
went  out  to  see  why  they  did  not  bring  her  potion. 
When  I  returned  my  darling  was  throwing  herself  all 
about,  and  beckoning  your  papa  to  her ;  he  bent  over 
her,  and  it  was  evident  that  he  lacked  the  power  to  say 
what  he  wished  to ;  she  could  only  open  her  lips,  and 
begin  to  groan,  *  My  God !  O  Lord !  The  children, 
the  children  ! '  I  wanted  to  run  and  fetch  you,  but  Ivan 
Vasilitch  stopped  me  and  said,  '  It  will  excite  her  more, 
it  is  better  not.'  After  that  she  only  raised  her  hand 
and  dropped  it  again.  What  she  meant  by  that,  God 
only  knows.  I  think  that  she  was  blessing  you  in  your 
absence,  and  it  was  plain  that  the  Lord  did  not  grant 
her  to  see  her  little  children  before  the  end.  Then  my 
little  dove  raised  herself,  kissed  her  hand,  and  all  at 
once  she  spoke  in  a  voice  which  I  cannot  bear  to  think 
of,  '  Mother  of  God,  do  not  desert  them  ! '  Then  the 
pain  attained  her  heart ;  it  was  evident  from  her  eyes 
that  the  poor  woman  was  suffering  tortures ;  she  fell 
back  on  the  pillows,  caught  the  sheet  in  her  teeth,  and 
her  tears  flowed,  my  dear." 

"Well,  and  then.?"  I  asked. 

Natalya  Savischna  said  no  more ;  she  turned  away 
and  wept  bitterly. 

Mamma  died  in  terrible  agony. 


CHILDHOOD  99 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

SORROW 

Late  in  the  evening  of  the  following  day  I  wanted  to 
see  her  once  more.  I  overcame  the  involuntary  feeling 
of  terror,  opened  the  door  gently,  and  entered  the  hall 
on  tiptoe. 

In  the  middle  of  the  room,  upon  a  table,  stood  the 
coffin,  and  around  it  stood  lighted  candles  in  tall  silver 
candlesticks.  In  a  distant  corner  sat  the  diachok  ^ 
reading  the  Psalter  in  a  low,  monotonous  voice. 

I  paused  at  the  door,  and  gazed ;  but  my  eyes  were 
so  swollen  with  weeping,  and  my  nerves  were  so  un- 
strung, that"  I  could  distinguish  nothing.  Everything 
ran  together  in  a  strange  fashion,  —  lights,  brocade, 
velvet,  the  great  candelabra,  the  rose-colored  pillow  bor- 
dered with  lace,  the  frontlet,-  the  cap  with  ribbons,  and 
something  else,  transparent,  and  of  the  hue  of  wax.  I 
climbed  upon  a  chair  in  order  to  see  her  face,  but  in  the 
place  where  it  was  the  same  pale-yellowish  transparent 
object  presented  itself  to  me.  I  could  not  believe  that  that 
was  her  face.  I  began  to  examine  it  attentively,  and 
little  by  little  I  began  to  recognize  the  dear  familiar 
features.  I  shivered  with  terror  when  I  had  convinced 
myself  that  it  was  she  ;  but  why  were  the  closed  eyes 
so  sunken  ?  Why  that  dreadful  pallor,  and  the  blackish 
spot  beneath  the  transparent  skin  on  one  cheek.''  Why 
was  the  expression  of  the  whole  face  so  stern  and  cold  ? 
Why  were  the  lips  so  pale,  and  their  outline  so  very 
beautiful,  so  majestic,  and  so  expressive  of  an  unearthly 
calm  that  a  cold  shudder  ran  down  my  back  and  through 
my  hair  when  I  looked  upon  it  ? 

I  gazed,  and  felt  that  some  incomprehensible,  irresisti- 
ble power  was  drawing  my  eyes  to  that  lifeless  face.     I 

'  Chanter,  lay-reader. 

-  The  vyenlchik  is  made  of  satin  or  paper,  with  pictures  of  Christ,  the 
Virgin  Mary,  and  St.  John,  and  laid  upon  the  brow  of  the  corpse,  in  the 

Russian  Church. — Tk. 


loo  CHILDHOOD 

did  not  take  my  eyes  from  it,  and  imagination  sketched 
me  a  picture  of  blooming  life  and  happiness.  I  forgot 
that  the  dead  body  which  lay  before  me,  and  upon  which 
I  stupidly  gazed,  as  upon  an  object  which  had  nothing 
in  common  with  me,  was  she.  I  fancied  her  now  in  one, 
now  in  another,  situation  —  alive,  merry,  smiling.  Then 
all  at  once  some  feature  in  the  pale  face  upon  which  my 
eyes  rested  struck  me.  I  recalled  the  terrible  reality, 
shuddered,  but  did  not  cease  my  gaze.  And  again 
visions  usurped  the  place  of  reality,  and  again  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  reality  shattered  my  visions.  At 
length  imagination  grew  weary,  it  ceased  to  deceive 
rae ;  the  consciousness  of  reality  also  vanished,  and  I 
lost  my  senses.  I  do  not  know  how  long  I  remained  in 
this  state,  I  do  not  know  in  what  it  consisted ;  I  only 
know  that,  for  a  time,  I  lost  consciousness,  of  my  exis- 
tence, and  experienced  an  exalted,  indescribably  pleasant 
and  sorrowful  delight. 

Perhaps,  in  flying  hence  to  a  better  world,  her  beauti- 
ful soul  gazed  sadly  back  upon  that  in  which  she  left  us  ; 
she  perceived  my  grief,  took  pity  upon  it,  and  descended 
to  earth  on  the  pinions  of  love,  with  a  heavenly  smile  of 
compassion,  in  order  to  comfort  and  bless  me. 

The  door  creaked,  a  chanter  entered  the  room  to  re- 
lieve the  other.  This  noise  roused  me ;  and  the  first 
thought  which  occurred  to  me  was  that,  since  I  was  not 
crying,  and  was  standing  on  a  chair,  in  an  attitude  which 
had  nothing  touching  about  it,  the  chanter  might  take 
me  for  an  unfeeling  boy,  who  had  climbed  on  the  chair 
out  of  mischief  or  curiosity.  I  crossed  myself,  made  a 
reverence,  and  began  to  cry. 

As  I  now  recall  my  impressions,  I  find  that  that  mo- 
ment of  self-forgetfulness  was  the  only  one  of  genuine 
grief.  Before  and  after  the  burial,  I  never  ceased  to 
weep,  and  was  sad ;  but  it  puts  me  to  shame  to  recall 
that  sadness,  because  a  feeling  of  self-love  was  always 
mingled  with  it ;  at  one  time  a  desire  to  show  that  I  was 
more  sorry  than  anybody  else ;  again,  solicitude  as  to 
the  impression  which  I  was  producing  upon  others ;  at 
another  time,  an  aimless  curiosity  which  caused  me  to 


CHILDHOOD  loi 

make  observations  upon  Mimi's  cap  aiid  the  faces  of 
those  present.  I  despised  myself,  because  the  feehng 
I  experienced  was  not  exclusively  one  of  sorrow,  and  I 
tried  to  conceal  all  others ;  for  this  reason  my  grief  was 
insincere  and  unnatural.  Moreover,  I  experienced  a 
sort  of  pleasure  in  knowing  that  I  was  unhappy.  I 
tried  to  arouse  my  consciousness  of  unhappiness ;  and 
this  egotistical  feeling,  more  than  all  the  rest,  stifled 
genuine  grief  within  me. 

After  passing  the  night  in  a  deep  and  quiet  sleep,  as 
is  always  the  case  after  great  sorrow,  I  awoke  with  my 
tears  dried  and  my  nerves  calm.  At  ten  o'clock  we  were 
summoned  to  the  service  of  prayer  for  the  dead,  which 
was  celebrated  before  the  body  was  taken  away.  The 
room  was  filled  with  house-servants  and  peasants,  who 
came  in  tears  to  take  leave  of  their  mistress.  During 
the  service  I  cried  in  proper  fashion,  crossed  myself,  and 
made  reverences  to  the  earth  ;  but  I  did  not  pray  in 
spirit,  and  was  tolerably  cold-blooded.  I  was  worrying 
because  my  new  half-coat,  which  they  had  put  on  me, 
hurt  me  very  much  under  the  arms.  I  meditated  how  not 
to  spot  the  knees  of  my  trousers  too  much  ;  and  I  took 
observations,  on  the  sly,  of  all  those  who  were  present. 
My  father  stood  at  the  head  of  the  cofifin.  He  was  as 
white  as  his  handkerchief,  and  restrained  his  tears  with 
evident  difficulty.  His  tall  figure  in  its  black  coat,  his 
pale,  expressive  face,  his  movements,  graceful  and 
assured  as  ever,  when  he  crossed  himself,  bowed,  touch- 
ing the  ground  with  his  hand,  took  the  candle  from  the 
hand  of  the  priest,  or  approached  the  coffin,  were  ex- 
tremely effective.  But,  I  do  not  know  why,  the  fact 
that  he  could  show  him.self  off  so  effectively  at  such  a 
moment  was  precisely  what  did  not  please  me.  Mimi 
stood  leaning  against  the  wall,  and  appeared  hardly  able 
to  keep  her  feet.  Her  dress  was  crumpled  and  flecked 
with  down,  her  cap  was  pushed  on  one  side,  her  swollen 
eyes  were  red,  her  head  shook.  She  never  ceased  to 
sob  in  a  voice  that  rent  the  .soul,  and  she  incessantly 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  her  handkerchief. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  she  did  this  in  order  to  hide  her 


I02  CHILDHOOD 

countenance  from  the  spectators,  and  to  rest  for  a  mo. 
ment  after  her  feigned  sobs.  I  remembered  how  she 
had  told  papa,  the  day  before,  that  mamma's  death  was 
such  a  terrible  shock  to  her  that  she  had  no  hope  of  liv- 
ing through  it ;  that  it  deprived  her  of  everything ;  that 
that  angel  (as  she  called  mamma)  had  not  forgotten  her 
before  her  death,  and  had  expressed  a  desire  to  secure 
her  future  and  Katenka's  forever  from  care.  She  shed 
bitter  tears  as  she  said  this,  and  perhaps  her  grief  was 
genuine,  but  it  was  not  pure  and  exclusive.  Liubotchka, 
in  her  black  frock,  with  mourning  trimmings,  was  all 
bathed  in  tears,  and  dropped  her  Httle  head,  glancing 
rarely  at  the  coffin,  and  her  face  expressed  only  childish 
terror.  Katenka  stood  beside  her  mother,  and,  in  spite 
of  the  long  face  she  had  put  on,  was  as  rosy  as  ever. 
Volodya's  frank  nature  was  frank  even  in  his  grief.  He 
stood  at  times  with  his  thoughtful,  immovable  glance 
fixed  on  some  object;  then  his  mouth  began  suddenly 
to  twitch,  and  he  hastily  crossed  himself,  and  bowed 
in  reverence.  All  the  strangers  who  were  present  at  the 
funeral  were  intolerable  to  me.  The  phrases  of  consola- 
tion which  they  uttered  to  father,  —  that  she  would  be 
better  off  there,  that  she  was  not  for  this  world,  — • 
aroused  a  kind  of  anger  in  me. 

What  right  had  they  to  speak  of  her  and  mourn  for 
her.''  Some  of  them  in  speaking  of  us  called  us  or- 
phans. As  if  we  did  not  know  without  their  assistance 
that  children  who  have  no  mother  are  called  by  that 
name !  It  evidently  pleased  them  to  be  the  first  to 
bestow  it  upon  us,  just  as  they  generally  make  haste 
to  call  a  young  girl  who  has  just  been  married  Madame 
for  the  first  time. 

In  the  far  corner  of  the  hall,  almost  concealed  by 
the  open  door  of  the  butler's  pantry,  knelt  a  bowed 
|and  gray-haired  woman.  With  clasped  hands,  and  eyes 
'raised  to  heaven,  she  neither  wept  nor  prayed.  Her  soul 
soared  impetuously  up  to  God,  and  she  besought  him  to 
let  her  join  the  one  whom  she  loved  more  than  all  on 
earth,  and  she  confidently  hoped  that  it  would  be 
soon. 


CHILDHOOD 


103 


"There  is  one  who  loved  her  truly !  "  thought  I,  and 
I  was  ashamed  of  myself. 

The  service  of  prayer  came  to  an  end  ;  the  face  of 
the  dead  woman  was  uncovered,  and  all  present,  with 
che  exception  of  ourselves,  approached  the  coffin  one 
by  one  and  kissed  it. 

One  of  the  last  to  draw  near  and  take  leave  of  her 
was  a  peasant  woman,  leading  a  beautiful  five-year-old 
girl,  whom  she  had  brought  hither  God  only  knows 
why.  At  that  moment,  I  unexpectedly  dropped  my 
moist  handkerchief,  and  stooped  to  pick  it  up.  But 
I  had  no  sooner  bent  over,  than  a  frightful  piercing 
shriek  startled  me ;  it  was  so  full  of  terror  that  if  J 
live  a  hundred  years  I  shall  never  forget  it,  and  when 
I  recall  it  a  cold  chill  always  runs  all  over  my  body. 
I  raised  my  head  :  on  a  tabouret  beside  the  coffin,  stood 
the  same  peasant  woman,  holding  in  her  arms  with 
difficulty  the  little  girl,  who,  with  her  tiny  hands  thrust 
out  before  her,  her  frightened  little  face  turned  aside, 
and  her  staring  eyes  fastened  upon  the  face  of  the 
corpse,  was  shrieking  in  a  wild  and  dreadful  voice.  I 
uttered  a  shriek  in  a  tone  which  I  think  must  have  been 
even  more  terrible  than  the  one  which  had  startled  me, 
and  ran  out  of  the  room. 

It  was  only  at  that  moment  that  I  understood  whence 
came  that  strong,  heavy  odor,  which,  mingling  with  the 
odor  of  the  incense,  filled  the  room  ;  and  the  thought 
that  that  face,  which  a  few  days  before  had  been  full 
of  beauty  and  tenderness,  that  face  which  I  loved  more 
than  anything  in  the  world,  could  excite  terror,  seemed 
for  the  first  time  to  reveal  to  me  the  bitter  truth,  and 
filled  my  soul  with  despair. 


I04  CHILDHOOD 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

THE    LAST    SAD    MEMORIES 

Mamma  was  dead,  but  our  life  pursued  its  usual  course. 
We  went  to  bed  and  got  up  at  the  same  hours,  and  in 
the  same  rooms  ;  morning  and  evening  tea,  dinner,  sup- 
per, all  took  place  at  the  usual  time  ;  the  tables  and 
chairs  stood  in  the  same  places ;  nothing  was  changed 
in  the  house  or  in  our  manner  of  life,  only  —  she  was 
no  more. 

It  seemed  to  me  that,  after  such  a  catastrophe,  all 
must  change ;  our  ordinary  manner  of  life  appeared  to 
me  an  insult  to  her  memory,  and  recalled  her  absence 
too  vividly. 

After  dinner,  on  the  evening  before  the  funeral,  I 
wanted  to  go  to  sleep ;  and  I  went  to  Natalya  Savi- 
schna's  room,  intending  to  install  myself  in  her  bed,  on 
the  soft  feather-bed,  and  beneath  the  warm  quilted 
coverlet.  When  I  entered,  Natalya  Savischna  was 
lying  on  her  bed,  and  was  probably  asleep ;  hearing  the 
noise  of  my  footsteps,  she  rose  up,  flung  aside  the 
woolen  cloth  which  protected  her  head  from  the  flies, 
and,  adjusting  her  cap,  seated  herself  on  the  edge  of 
the  bed. 

As  I  had  previously  been  in  the  habit  of  coming 
rather  frequently,  after  dinner,  to  sleep  in  her  room,  she 
divined  the  reason  for  my  appearance,  and  said  to  me, 
as  she  rose  from  the  bed  :  — 

"  What  is  it  .-*  Probably  you  have  come  to  get  some 
rest,  my  dear.''     Lie  down." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Natalya  Savischna  ?" 
I   said,   holding   her  hand.     "  That  is  not  it  at  all.  —  I 

t'ust    came  ....  and    you    are    weary   yourself ;    }ou    had 
tetter  lie  down." 

"  No,  my  dear,  I  have  slept  enough,"  she  said.  (I 
knew  that  she  had  not  slept  for  three  days,  for  grief.) 
"  And  besides,  I  am  not  sleepy  now,"  she  added,  with  a 
deep  sigh. 


CHILDHOOD  105 

I  wanted  to  discuss  our  misfortune  with  Natalya 
Savischna.  I  knew  her  honesty  and  love,  and  it  would 
have  been  a  comfort  to  me  to  weep  with  her. 

"  Natalya  Savischna,"  I  said,  seating  myself  on  the 
bed,  after  a  brief  silence,  "  did  you  expect  this  ?  " 

The  old  woman  looked  at  me  in  amazement  and 
curiosity,  probably  because  she  did  not  understand  why 
I  asked  her  that. 

"  Who  could  expect  this  ?  "  I  repeated. 

"  Ah,  my  dear,"  said  she,  casting  a  glance  of  the  ten- 
derest  sympathy  upon  me,  "  not  only  was  it  not  to  be 
expected,  but  I  cannot  believe  it  even  now.  Such  an 
old  woman  as  I  ought  to  have  laid  her  old  bones  to  rest 
long  ago.  The  old  master,  Prince  Nikolai  Mikhai'lo- 
vitch,  your  grandfather  (may  his  memory  be  eternal !), 
had  two  brothers,  and  a  sister  Annuchka  ;  and  I  have 
buried  them  all,  and  they  were  all  younger  than  I  am, 
my  dear ;  and  now,  for  my  sins  evidently,  it  is  my  fate 
to  outlive  her.  His  holy  will  be  done  !  He  took  her  be- 
cause she  was  worthy,  and  He  wants  good  people  there." 

This  simple  thought  impressed  me  as  a  comfort,  and 
I  moved  nearer  Natalya  Savischna.  She  folded  her 
hands  on  her  bosom,  and  looked  upward  ;  her  sunken, 
tearful  eyes  expressed  great  but  quiet  suffering.  She 
cherished  a  firm  hope  that  God  would  not  long  part  her 
from  her  upon  whom  she  had  for  so  many  years  con- 
centrated all  the  power  of  her  love. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  it  does  not  seem  long  since  I  was  her 
nurse,  and  swaddled  her,  and  she  called  me  Nascha. 
She  would  run  to  me,  seize  me  with  her  plump  little 
hands,  and  begin  to  kiss  me,  and  to  say  :  — 

'"  My  Naschik,  my  beauty,  my  little  turkey!  ' 

"  And  I  would  say  in  jest :  — 

"  '  It 's  not  true,  matushka,^  you  do  not  love  me  ; 
wait  until  you  grow  up,  you  will  marry,  and  forget  your 
Nascha.'  She  would  begin  to  reflect.  '  No,'  she 
would  say,  '  it  will  be  better  not  to  marry,  if  I  cannot 
take  Nascha  with  me ;  I  will  never  desert  Nascha.' 
And  now  she  has  deserted  me,  and  has  not  waited  foi 

1  Literally,  "  little  mulher  "  —  my  dear.  —  Tr. 


io6  CHILDHOOD 

me.  And  she  loved  me,  the  dear  dead  woman  !  And, 
in  truth,  who  was  there  that  she  did  not  love  ?  Yes, 
my  dear,  it  is  impossible  for  you  to  forget  your  mamma. 
She  was  not  a  human  being,  but  an  angel,  from  heaven. 
When  her  soul  reaches  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  it  will 
love  you  there,  and  rejoice  over  you." 

"  Why  do  you  say,  when  she  reaches  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  Natalya  Savischna  ?  "  I  asked.  "Why,  I  think 
she  is  there  now." 

"  No,  my  dear,"  said  Natalya  Savischna,  lowering  her 
voice,  and  sitting  closer  to  me  on  the  bed ;  "her  soul  is 
here  now,"  and  she  pointed  upward.  She  spoke  almost 
in  a  whisper,  and  with  so  much  feeling  and  conviction 
that  I  involuntarily  raised  my  eyes,  and  inspected  the 
cornice  in  search  of  something.  "  Before  the  soul  of 
,  the  just  goes  to  paradise,  it  undergoes  forty  trials,  my 
dear,  and  it  can  stay  in  its  home  for  forty  days."  ^ 

She  talked  long  in  this  strain,  and  with  as  much  sim- 
plicity and  faith  as  though  she  were  relating  the  most 
every-day  occurrences,  which  she  had  witnessed  her- 
self, and  on  the  score  of  which  it  would  never  enter 
any  one's  head  to  entertain  the  slightest  doubt.  I  held 
my  breath  as  I  listened  to  her ;  and,  although  I  did  not 
understand  very  well  what  she  said,  I  believed  her 
entirely. 

"Yes,  my  dear,  she  is  here  now;  she  is  looking  at 
us  ;  perhaps  she  hears  what  we  are  saying,"  said  Na- 
talya Savischna,  in  conclusion. 

She  bent  her  head,  and  became  silent.  She  wanted 
a  handkerchief  to  wipe  her  falling  tears ;  she  rose, 
looked  me  straight  in  the  face,  and  said,  in  a  voice 
which  trembled  with  emotion  :  — 

I  ^  Natalya  Savischna  does  not  state  accurately  the  tenets  of  her  church 
<f  on  the  subject  of  the  soul  after  death.  The  Eastern  Church  holds  that  the 
soul  hovers  about  the  body  and  the  places  familiar  to  it  for  three  days  after 
death.  After  that,  until  the  fortieth  day,  it  is  shown  the  abodes  of  tor- 
ment and  of  bliss.  On  the  fortieth  day  it  is  brought  into  the  presence  of 
God  for  the  third  and  last  time  (the  other  presentations  of  the  soul  before 
God  occur  on  the  third  and  the  ninth  days  after  death),  and  is  assigned 
its  abiding  place,  where  it  will  remain  until  the  last  Judgment  Day.  No 
Purgatory,  in  the  Roman  sense,  is  admitted  by  the  Eastern  Church. — Tr. 


CHILDHOOD  107 

"  The  Lord  has  brought  me  many  degrees  nearer  to 
Him  through  this.  What  is  left  for  me  here  now  ? 
Whom  have  I  to  live  for  ?     Whom  have  I  to  love  ?  " 

"Don't  you  love  us?"  I  said  reproachfully,  hardly 
restraining  my  tears. 

"  God  knows  how  I  love  you,  my  darlings ;  but  I 
have  never  loved  any  one  as  I  loved  her,  and  I  never 
can  love  any  one  in  that  way." 

She  could  say  no  more,  but  turned  away  and  sobbed 
loudly. 

I  no  longer  thought  of  sleeping ;  we  sat  opposite 
each  other  in  silence,  and  wept. 

Foka  entered  the  room ;  perceiving  our  condition-, 
and  probably  not  wishing  to  disturb  us,  he  glanced  at 
us  timidly  and  in  silence,  and  paused  at  the  door. 

"What  do  you  want,  Fokascha.''"  asked  Natalya 
Savischna,  wiping  her  eyes. 

"  A  pound  and  a  half  of  raisins,  four  pounds  of  sugar, 
and  three  pounds  of  rice,  for  the  kutya."  ^ 

"  Immediately,  immediately,  batyushka,"  said  Na- 
talya Savischna,  taking  a  hasty  pinch  of  snuff;  and 
she  went  to  her  chest  with  brisk  steps.  The  last  traces 
of  the  grief  called  forth  by  our  conversation  had  van- 
ished when  she  set  about  her  duty,  which  she  consid- 
ered as  extremely  important. 

"  What  are  the  four  pounds  for  ? "  she  grumbled,  as 
she  took  out  the  sugar  and  weighed  it  with  the  steel- 
yards. "  Three  and  a  half  will  be  enough,"  and  she 
took  several  bits  from  the  scales.  "Who  ever  heard 
the  like  .''  I  gave  out  eight  pounds  of  rice  yesterday, 
and  now  more  is  demanded.  Say  what  you  like,  Foka 
Demiditch,  but  I  won't  let  you  have  the  rice.  That 
Vanka  is  glad  because  the  house  is  upside  down  ;  he 
thinks  no  one  will  notice.  No,  I  won't  shut  my  eyes 
to  attempts  on  my  master's  goods.  Now,  was  such  a 
thing  ever  seen,  as  eight  pounds  .''  " 

"What  is  to  be  done  .''     He  says  that  it 's  all  gone." 

1  A  dish  made  of  boiled,  sweetened  rice,  and  raisins,  which  is  placed 
on  a  table  in  the  church  at  requiem  masses  and  services  of  prayer  for  the 
dead.  —  Tr. 


io8  CHILDHOOD 

"  Well,  there,  take  it,  there  !     Let  him  have  it !  " 

I  was  surprised  at  the  moment  by  this  transition  from 
the  affecting  sentiment  with  which  she  had  talked  with 
me,  to  this  grumbling  and  petty  calculation.  On  re- 
flecting upon  the  subject  afterward  I  saw  that,  in 
spite  of  what  was  going  on  in  her  soul,  she  retained 
sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  busy  herself  with  her 
affairs,  and  the  force  of  habit  drew  her  to  her  custom- 
ary employments.  Sorrow  acted  so  powerfully  upon 
her  that  she  did  not  find  it  necessary  to  dissemble,  and 
she  was  able  to  occupy  herself  with  extraneous  objects ; 
she  would  not  even  have  been  able  to  understand  how 
such  a  thought  could  occur  to  any  one. 

Vanity  is  a  feeling  which  is  utterly  incompatible  with 
genuine  grief ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  this  feeling  is  so 
strongly  interwoven  with  the  nature  of  many,  that  even 
the  deepest  woe  very  rarely  expels  it.  Vanity  exhibits 
itself  in  sorrow  by  the  desire  to  appear  sad,  or  unhappy, 
or  firm  ;  and  these  low  desires,  which  we  do  not  ac- 
knowledge, but  which  rarely  forsake  us  even  in  the 
deepest  trouble,  deprive  it  of  force,  dignity,  and  truth. 
But  Natalya  Savischna  was  so  deeply  wounded  by  her 
unhappiness,  that  not  a  single  desire  lingered  in  her 
soul,  and  she  only  lived  from  habit. 

After  giving  Foka  the  provisions  he  had  asked  for, 
and  reminding  him  of  the  pasty  which  must  be  prepared 
for  the  entertainment  of  the  clergy,  she  dismissed  him, 
took  her  stocking,  and  seated  herself  beside  me  again. 

The  conversation  turned  again  upon  the  same  sub- 
ject as  before ;  and  again  we  wept,  and  again  dried  our 
eyes. 

These  conversations  with  Natalya  Savischna  were 
repeated  every  day  ;  her  quiet  tears  and  calm,  devout 
words  brought  me  comfort  and  consolation. 

But  we  were  soon  parted.  Three  days  after  the 
funeral,  the  whole  household  removed  to  Moscow,  and 
I  was  fated  never  to  see  her  more. 

Grandmother  only  received  the  terrible  news  on  our 
arrival,  and  her  grief  was  extraordinary.  We  were  not 
admitted  to  her  presence,  because  she  lay  unconscious 


CHILDHOOD  109 

for  a  whole  week,  and  the  doctor  feared  for  her  life,  the 
more  so  as  she  not  only  would  not  take  any  medicine, 
but  would  speak  to  no  one,  did  not  sleep,  and  took  no 
nourishment.  Sometimes,  as  she  sat  alone  in  her  cham- 
ber, in  her  arm-chair,  she  suddenly  broke  into  a  laugh, 
then  began  to  sob,  but  shed  no  tears  ;  then  she  was 
seized  with  convulsions,  and  uttered  frightful  and  inco- 
herent words  in  a  voice  of  madness.  This  was  the 
first  great  grief  which  had  fallen  upon  her,  and  it  drove 
her  to  despair.  She  felt  the  need  of  blaming  some  one 
for  her  misery ;  and  she  said  terrible  things,  threatened 
some  invisible  person  with  unusual  energy,  sprang  from 
her  chair,  paced  the  room  in  long  and  rapid  strides,  and 
then  fell  senseless. 

I  entered  her  room  on  one  occasion.  She  was  sitting 
in  her  arm-chair,  as  usual,  and  was  calm  to  all  appear' 
ances  ;  but  her  glance  startled  me.  Her  eyes  were  very 
wide  open,  but  their  gaze  was  wavering  and  dull ;  she 
looked  straight  at  me,  but  she  could  not  have  seen  me. 
Her  lips  began  a  slow  smile,  and  she  spoke  in  a  voice 
of  touching  gentleness :  "  Come  here,  my  dear  ;  come 
here,  my  angel."  I  thought  that  she  was  addressing 
me,  and  approached  nearer ;  but  she  did  not  look  at  me. 
"  Ah,  if  you  only  knew,  my  love,  what  torments  I  have 
suffered,  and  how  glad  I  am  that  you  have  come  !  " 
Then  I  understood  that  she  fancied  she  saw  mamma, 
and  halted.  "  They  told  me  you  were  dead,"  she  went 
on,  with  a  frown.  "  What  nonsense !  Could  you  die 
before  me .'' "  and  she  gave  a  dreadful  hysteric  laugh. 

Only  people  who  are  capable  of  loving  strongly  can 
also  suffer  great  sorrow ;  but  this  same  necessity  of 
loving  serves  to  counteract  their  grief,  and  heals  them. 
For  this  reason  the  moral  nature  of  man  is  more  ac- 
tive than  the  physical.     Grief  never  kills. 

After  the  lapse  of  a  week,  grandmamma  could  weep, 
and  her  condition  improved.  Her  first  thought,  when 
she  came  to  herself,  was  of  us ;  and  her  love  for  us 
increased.  We  never  left  her  arm-chair ;  she  cried 
softly,  spoke  of  mamma,  and  tenderly  caressed  us. 

It  could  not  enter  the  mind  of  any  one  who  looked 


no  CHILDHOOD 

upon  grandmamma's  grief,  that  she  was  exaggerating 
it,  and  the  expressions  of  that  grief  were  forcible  and 
touching  ;  but  I  do  not  know  why  I  sympathized  more 
with  Natalya  Savischna,  and  to  this  day  I  am  convinced 
that  no  one  loved  and  mourned  mamma  so  purely  and 
so  sincerely  as  that  simple,  affectionate  creature. 

The  happy  days  of  childhood  ended  for  me  with 
mamma's  death,  and  a  new  epoch  began,  —  the  epoch 
of  boyhood ;  but  as  my  recollections  of  Natalya  Sa- 
vischna, whom  I  never  saw  again,  and  who  exercised 
such  a  powerful  and  beneficent  influence  over  my  career 
and  the  development  of  my  sensibility,  belong  to  the 
first  epoch,  I  will  say  a  few  words  more  about  her  and 
her  death. 

After  our  departure,  as  the  people  who  remained  in 
the  country  afterwards  informed  me,  she  found  the 
time  hang  heavy  on  her  hands  from  lack  of  occupation. 
Although  all  the  clothes-presses  were  still  in  her  hands, 
and  she  never  ceased  to  turn  over  their  contents,  alter 
the  arrangement,  hang  things  up  and  pack  them  away 
again,  yet  she  missed  the  noise  and  turmoil  of  a  country- 
house  which  is  inhabited  by  its  owners,  to  which  she 
had  been  accustomed  from  her  childhood.  Grief,  the 
change  in  her  manner  of  life,  the  absence  of  responsi- 
bilities, speedily  developed  palsy,  to  which  she  had  long 
been  inclined.  Just  a  year  after  mamma's  death,  dropsy 
made  its  appearance,  and  she  took  to  her  bed. 

It  was  hard,  I  think,  for  Natalya  Savischna  to  live 
alone,  and  still  harder  for  her  to  die  alone,  in  the  great 
empty  house  at  Petrovskoe,  without  relatives  or  friends. 
Every  one  in  the  house  loved  and  revered  Natalya 
Savischna  ;  but  she  entertained  no  friendship  with  any 
one,  and  was  proud  of  it.  She  considered  that  in  her 
position  of  a  housekeeper  who  enjoyed  the  confidence 
of  her  master,  and  had  in  her  charge  so  many  chests 
filled  with  all  sorts  of  property,  a  friendship  with  any 
one  would  infallibly  lead  to  partiality  and  a  criminal 
condescension.  For  that  reason,  or,  possibly,  because 
she  had  nothing  in  common  with  the  other  servants, 
she  held  herself  aloof  from  all,  and  said  that  she  had 


CHILDHOOD  III 

neither  gossips  nor  cronies  in  the  house,  and  she 
would  not  countenance  any  attacks  upon  her  master's 
property. 

She  sought  and  found  consolation  by  confiding  her 
feelings  to  God  in  fervent  prayer;  but  sometimes,  in 
those  moments  of  weakness  to  which  we  are  all  subject, 
when  man  finds  his  best  comfort  in  the  tears  and  sym- 
pathy of  a  living  being,  she  put  her  little  pug  dog  on 
her  bed  (it  licked  her  hand,  and  fixed  its  yellow  eyes 
upon  her),  talked  to  it,  and  wept  softly  as  she  petted 
it.  When  the  pug  began  to  howl  piteously,  she  endeav- 
ored to  quiet  it,  and  said,  "  Stop ;  I  know,  without 
your  telling  me,  that  I  shall  die  soon." 

A  month  before  her  death,  she  took  from  her  chest 
some  white  calico,  white  muslin,  and  pink  ribbons;  with 
the  assistance  of  her  maid  she  made  herself  a  white 
dress  and  a  cap,  and  arranged  everything  which  was 
requisite  for  her  funeral,  down  to  the  most  minute 
detail.  She  also  sorted  over  the  chests  belonging  to 
her  master,  and  transferred  them  with  the  greatest  pre- 
cision, in  writing,  to  the  overseer.  Then  she  got  out 
two  silk  dresses,  an  old  shawl  which  grandmamma  had 
given  her  at  some  time  or  other,  and  grandfather's  mili- 
tary uniform,  which  had  also  been  given  to  her  for  her 
own.  Thanks  to  her  care,  the  embroidery  and  galloon 
on  the  uniform  were  perfectly  fresh,  and  the  cloth  had 
not  been  touched  by  the  moths. 

Before  her  death,  she  expressed  a  wish  that  one  of 
these  dresses,  the  pink  one,  should  be  given  to  Volodya 
for  a  dressing-gown  or  jacket,  and  the  other,  the  brown 
checked  one,  to  me  for  the  same  purpose,  and  the  shawl 
to  Liubotchka.  The  uniform  she  bequeathed  to  which- 
ever of  us  should  first  become  an  officer.  All  the  rest 
of  her  property,  and  her  money,  with  the  exception  of 
forty  rubles  which  she  laid  aside  for  her  funeral  and 
masses,  she  left  to  her  brother.  Her  brother,  who. 
had  received  his  freedom  long  before,  resided  in  some 
distant  government,  and  led  a  very  dissipated  life ; 
hence  she  had  had  no  intercourse  with  him  during  her 
lifetime.  • 


112  CHILDHOOD 

When  Natalya  Savischna's  brother  presented  himself 
to  receive  his  inheritance,  and  the  deceased's  entire  prop- 
erty proved  to  consist  of  twenty-five  rubles  in  bills,  he 
would  not  believe  it,  and  said  that  it  could  not  be  that 
the  old  woman,  who  had  lived  for  sixty  years  in  a 
wealthy  family,  and  had  had  everything  in  her  hands, 
had  lived  in  a  miserly  way  all  her  life,  and  had  fretted 
over  every  scrap,  had  left  nothing.  But  this  was  actu- 
ally the  case. 

Natalya  Savischna  suffered  for  two  months  from  h6r 
complaint,  and  bore  her  pain  with  a  truly  Christian 
patience ;  she  did  not  grumble  or  complain,  but  merely 
prayed  incessantly,  as  was  her  custom.  She  confessed 
with  joy,  and  received  the  Holy  Communion  and  was 
anointed  with  oil,^  an  hour  before  her  death. 

She  begged  forgiveness  of  all  the  house-servants  for 
any 'injuries  which  she  might  have  done  them,  and 
besought  her  priest,  Father  Vasily,  to  say  to  all  of  us 
that  she  did  not  know  how  to  express  her  thanks  for 
all  our  kindness,  and  prayed  us  to  pardon  her  if  she 
had  pained  any  one  by  her  stupidity ;  "  but  I  never  was 
a  thief,  and  I  can  say  that  I  never  cheated  my  masters 
out  of  a  thread."  This  was  the  only  quality  in  herself 
which  she  valued. 

Having  put  on  the  wrapper  and  cap  which  she  had 
prepared,  and  propped  herself  up  on  the  pillows,  she 
never  ceased  until  the  moment  of  death  to  converse 
with  the  priest.  She  reminded  him  that  she  had  not 
left  anything  to  the  poor,  gave  him  ten  rubles,  and 
begged  him  to  distribute  it  in  the  parish.  Then  she 
crossed  herself,  lay  back,  sighed  for  the  last  time,  and 
uttered  the  name  of  God  in  a  joyous  tone. 

She  quitted  life  without  regret ;  she  did  not  fear 
death,  but  accepted  it  as  a  blessing.  This  is  often  said, 
but  how  rarely  is  it  true !     Natalya  Savischna  could  not 

fear  death,  because  she  died  firm  in  the  faith  and  having 

tt 

1  It  is  iKJt  called  "Extreme  Unction"  in  the  Holy  Catholic  Apostolic 
Church  of  the  East.  It  is  the  Sacrament  founded  upon  James  v.  14,  15, 
and  can  he  used  in  any  illness,  whether  that  illness  is  deemed  mortal  or 
not.  — Tk. 


CHILDHOOD  ij; 

fulfilled  the  law  of  the  Gospels.  Her  whole  life  had 
been  pure,  unselfish  love  and  self-sacrifice. 

What  if  her  creed  might  have  been  more  lofty,  if  her 
life  might  have  been  devoted  to  higher  aims  ?  is  this 
pure  soul  any  the  less  deserving  of  love  and  admiration 
on  that  account  ? 

She  accomplished  the  best  and  grandest  deed  in  this 
life  ;  she  died  without  regret  or  fear. 

She  was  buried,  in  accordance  with  her  wish,  not  far 
from  the  chapel  which  stood  upon  mamma's  grave. 
The  hillock,  overgrown  with  brambles  and  burdock, 
beneath  which  she  lies,  is  inclosed  within  a  black  iron 
paling ;  but  I  never  forget  to  go  from  the  chapel  to  that 
railing,  and  bow  myself  to  the  earth  in  reverence. 

Sometimes  I  pause  silent,  midway  between  the  chapel 
and  that  black  fence.  Painful  reminiscences  suddenly 
penetrate  my  soul.  The  thought  comes  to  me :  Did 
Providence  connect  me  with  these  two  beings  merely 
in  order  that  I  might  be  made  to  mourn  for  them 
forever  ? 


Count  L.  N.  Tolstoi. 

From  a  daguerreotype,  1851. 


BOYHOOD 


CHAPTER   I 

A  JOURNEY    WITHOUT    RELAYS 

TWO  equipages  are  again  brought  to  the  porch  of 
the  Petrovskoe  house ;  one  is  a  coach,  in  which 
sit  Mimi,  Katenka,  Liubotchka,  and  the  maid,  with  the 
steward  Yakoff  on  the  box  ;  the  other  is  a  britchka, 
in  which  ride  Volodya  and  I,  and  the  footman  Vasily, 
who  had  recently  been  taken  from  obrok.^ 

Papa,  who  was  to  follow  us  to  Moscow  in  a  few  days, 
stands  on  the  porch  without  his  hat,  and  makes  the 
sign  of  the  cross  upon  the  window  of  the  coach  and 
the  britchka. 

"Well,  Christ  be  with  you  !  drive  on  !  "  Yakoff  and 
the  coachman  (we  are  traveling  in  our  own  carriage) 
take  off  their  hats,  and  cross  themselves.  "Get  up! 
Get  up  !     In  God's  name  !  " 

The  bodies  of  the  carriage  and  britchka  begin  to  jolt 
over  the  uneven  road,  and  the  birches  along  the  great 
avenue  fly  past  us  one  by  one.  I  am  not  at  all  sad  ; 
my  mental  gaze  is  fixed,  not  upon  what  I  am  leaving, 
but  upon  vi^hat  awaits  me.  In  proportion  as  the  objects 
connected  with  the  painful  memories  which  have  filled 
my  mind  until  this  moment  retreat  into  the  distance, 
these  memories  lose  their  force,  and  are  speedily  re- 
placed by  a  consoling  sense  of  acquaintanceship  with 
life,  which  is  full  of  force,  freshness,  and  hope. 

1  A  sum  paid  to  the  proprietor  by  a  serf  in  lieu  of  personal  service. 
Many  serfs  of  both  sexes  exercised  various  trades  in  the  cities,  and  their 
obrok  often  yielded  their  masters  quite  a  sum.  — Tr. 


ii6  BOYHOOD 

Rarely  have  I  spent  days  so  —  I  will  not  say  mer- 
rily, for  I  was  still  rather  conscience-stricken  at  the 
idea  of  yielding  to  merriment  —  but  so  agreeably,  so 
pleasantly,  as  the  four  during  which  our  journey  lasted. 

I  had  no  longer  before  my  eyes  the  closed  door  of 
mamma's  room,  which  I  could  not  pass  without  a  shud- 
der ;  nor  the  closed  piano,  which  no  one  approached, 
but  which  every  one  regarded  with  a  sort  of  fear;  nor 
the  mourning  garments  (we  all  had  on  simple  traveling 
suits),  nor  any  of  those  things  which,  by  recalling  to 
me  vividly  my  irrevocable  loss,  made  me  avoid  every 
appearance  of  life,  from  the  fear  of  offending  Jicr  mem- 
ory in  some  way.  Here,  on  the  other  hand,  new  and 
picturesque  spots  and  objects  arrest  and  divert  my  at- 
tention, and  nature  in  its  spring  garb  fixes  firmly  in  my 
mind  the  cheering  sense  of  satisfaction  in  the  present, 
and  bright  hopes  for  the  future. 

Early,  very  early  in  the  morning,  pitiless  Vasily,  who 
is  overzealous,  as  people  always  are  in  new  situations, 
pulls  off  the  coverlet,  and  announces  that  it  is  time  to 
set  out,  and  that  everything  is  ready.  Snuggle  and 
rage  and  contrive  as  you  will  to  prolong  even  for  another 
quarter  of  an  hour  the  sweet  morning  slumber,  you  see 
by  Vasily's  determined  face  that  he  is  inexorable,  and 
prepared  to  drag  off  the  coverlet  twenty  times  ;  so  you 
jump  up,  and  run  out  into  the  yard  to  wash  yourself. 

The  samovar  is  already  boiling  in  the  anteroom,  and 
Mitka,  the  outrider,  is  blowing  it  until  he  is  as  red  as  a 
crab.  It  is  damp  and  dark  out  of  doors,  as  though  the 
steam  were  rising  from  an  odoriferous  dung-heap  ;  the 
sun  illuminates  with  a  bright,  cheerful  light  the  eastern 
sky  and  the  straw  roofs  of  the  ample  sheds  surround- 
ing the  courtyard,  which  are  sparkling  with  dew.  Be- 
neath them  our  horses  are  visible,  hitched  about  the 
fodder,  and  the  peaceful  sound  of  their  mastication  is 
audible. 

A  shaggy  black  dog,  who  has  lain  down  upon  a  dry 
heap  of  manure  before  dawn,  stretches  lazily,  and  be- 
takes himself  to  the  other  side  of  the  yard  at  a  gentle 
trot,  wagging  his  tail  the  while.     The  busy  housewife 


BOYHOOD  117 

opens  the  creaking  gates,  drives  the  meditative  cows 
into  the  street,  where  the  tramp,  lowing,  and  bleating 
of  herds  is  already  audible,  and  exchanges  a  word  with 
her  sleepy  neighbor.  Philip,  with  the  sleeves  of  his 
shirt  stripped  up,  draws  the  bucket  from  the  deep  well, 
all  dripping  with  clear  water,  by  means  of  the  wheel, 
and  empties  it  into  an  oaken  trough,  about  which  wide- 
awake ducks  are  already  splashing  in  the  pool  ;  and  I 
gaze  with  pleasure  upon  Philip's  handsome  face  with  its 
great  beard,  and  at  the  thick  sinews  and  muscles  which 
are  sharply  defined  upon  his  bare,  hairy  arms  when  he 
makes  any  exertion. 

Behind  the  screen  where  Mimi  slept  with  the  girls, 
and  over  which  we  had  conversed  in  the  evening,  a 
movement  is  audible.  Mascha  runs  past  us  repeatedly 
with  various  objects  which  she  endeavors  to  conceal 
from  our  curiosity  with  her  dress  ;  and  finally  she  opens 
the  door,  and  calls  us  to  drink  our  tea. 

Vasily,  in  a  fit  of  superfluous  zeal,  runs  into  the  room 
incessantly,  carries  out  first  one  thing,  then  another, 
winks  at  us,  and  in  every  way  exhorts  Marya  Ivanovna 
to  set  out  as  speedily  as  possible.  The  horses  are  har- 
nessed, and  express  their  impatience  by  jingling  their 
bells  every  now  and  then  ;  the  trunks,  chests,  caskets, 
dressing-cases,  are  again  packed  away,  and  we  take  our 
seats.  But  each  time  we  find  a  mountain  inside  the 
britchka  instead  of  a  seat,  so  that  it  is  impossible  to 
understand  how  all  this  had  been  arranged  the  day  be- 
fore, and  how  we  are  going  to  sit  now.  One  walnut- 
wood  tea-caddy  with  a  triangular  .cover,  in  particular, 
which  is  intrusted  to  us  in  the  britchka,  is  placed  under 
me,  and  enrages  me  extremely.  But  Vasily  says  that 
will  settle  down,  and  I  am  forced  to  believe  him. 

The  sun  has  but  just  risen  above  the  dense  white 
clouds  which  veil  the  east,  and  all  the  country  round 
about  is  illuminated  with  a  quietly  cheerful  light.  All 
is  so  very  beautiful  about  me,  and  I  am  so  tranquil  and 
light  of  heart.  The  road  winds  away  in  front  like  a 
wide,  unconfined  ribbon,  amid  fields  of  dry  stubble,  and 
herbage  sparkling  with  dew.     Here  and  there  by  the 


ii8  BOYHOOD 

roadside,  we  come  upon  a  gloomy  willow,  or  a  young 
birch  with  small,  sticky  leaves,  casting  a  long,  motion- 
less shadow  upon  the  dry  clayey  ruts  and  the  short  green 
grass  of  the  highway.  The  monotonous  song  of  the 
wheels  and  bells  does  not  drown  the  sound  of  the  larks, 
who  circle  close  to  the  very  road.  The  smell  of  moth- 
eaten  cloth,  of  dust,  and  a  certain  sourness,  which  char- 
acterizes our  britchka,  is  overpowered  by  the  perfume 
of  the  morning  ;  and  I  feel  a  joyous  uneasiness  in  my 
soul,  a  desire  to  do  something,  which  is  a  sign  of  true 
enjoyment. 

I  had  not  managed  to  say  my  prayers  at  the  post- 
house  ;  but  as  I  have  more  than  once  observed  that 
some  misfortune  happens  to  me  on  the  day  when,  from 
any  circumstance,  I  forget  to  fulfil  this  ceremony,  I 
make  an  effort  to  repair  my  mistake.  I  take  off  my 
cap,  turn  to  the  corner  of  the  britchka,  recite  some 
prayers,  and  cross  myself  under  my  jacket  so  that  no 
one  may  see  it.  But  a  thousand  different  objects  dis- 
tract my  attention  ;  and  I  repeat  the  same  words  of 
the  prayer  several  times  over,  in  my  absence  of  mind. 

Yonder  on  the  foot-path  which  winds  beside  the  road, 
some  slowly  moving  figures  are  visible  ;  they  are  pil- 
grims. Their  heads  are  enveloped  in  dirty  cloths ; 
sacks  of  birch-bark  are  bound  upon  their  backs  ;  their 
feet  are  wrapped  in  dirty,  tattered  foot-bands,  and  shod 
in  heavy  bast  shoes.  Swaying  their  staves  in  unison, 
and  hardly  glancing  at  us,  they  move  on  with  a  heavy, 
deliberate  tread,  one  after  the  other  ;  and  questions  take 
possession  of  my  mind,  —  whither  are  they  going,  and 
why  ?  will  their  journey  last  long  ?  and  will  the  long 
shadows  which  they  cast  upon  the  road  soon  unite  with 
the  shadow  of  the  willow  which  they  must  pass  ?  Here 
a  calash  with  four  post-horses  comes  rapidly  to  meet  us. 
Two  seconds  more,  and  the  faces  which  looked  at  us 
with  polite  curiosity  at  a  distance  of  two  arshins  ^  have 
already  flashed  past  ;  and  it  seems  strange  that  these 
faces  have  nothing  in  common  with  me,  and  that,  in  all 
probability,  I  shall  never  behold  them  again. 

^  An  arshin  is  twenty-eight  inches. 


BOYHOOD  119 

Here  come  two  shaggy,  perspiring  horses,  galloping 
along  the  side  of  the  road  in  their  halters,  with  the 
traces  knotted  up  to  the  breech-strap  ;  and  behind,  with 
his  long  legs  and  huge  shoes  dangling  on  each  side  of  a 
horse,  over  whose  withers  hangs  the  dug}  and  who 
jingles  his  little  bells  almost  inaudibly  now  and  then, 
rides  a  young  lad  of  a  postilion,  with  his  felt  cap  cocked 
over  one  ear,  drawling  a  long-drawn-out  song.  His  face 
and  attitude  are  expressive  of  so  much  lazy,  careless 
content,  that  it  seems  to  me  it  would  be  the  height  of 
bliss  to  be  a  post-boy,  to  ride  the  horses  home,  and  sing 
melancholy  songs.  Yonder,  far  beyond  the  ravine,  a 
village  church  with  its  green  roof  is  visible  against  the, 
bright  blue  sky  ;  yonder  is  a  hamlet,  the  red  roof  of  a 
gentleman's  house,  and  a  green  garden.  Who  lives  in 
this  house  "i  Are  there  children  in  it,  father,  mother, 
tutor }  Why  should  we  not  go  to  this  house,  and  make 
the  acquaintance  of  the  owner .?  Here  is  a  long  train 
of  huge  wagons  harnessed  to  troikas  of  well-fed,  thick- 
legged  horses,  which  are  obliged  to  turn  out  to  pass. 
"  What  are  you  carrying } "  inquires  Vasily  of  the  first 
carter,  who,  with  his  big  feet  hanging  from  the  board 
which  forms  his  seat,  and  flourishing  his  whip,  regards 
us  for  a  long  time  with  an  intent  mindless  gaze,  and 
only  makes  some  sort  of  reply  when  it  is  impossible  for 
him  not  to  hear.  "  With  what  wares  do  you  travel  .'' " 
Vasily  asks,  turning  to  another  team,  upon  whose  railed-in 
front  lies  another  carter  beneath  a  new  rug.  A  blond 
head,  accompanied  by  a  red  face  and  a  reddish  beard,  is 
thrust  out  from  beneath  the  rug  for  a  moment ;  it  casts 
a  glance  of  indifferent  scorn  upon  us,  and  disappears 
again  ;  and  the  thought  occurs  to  me  that  these  carters 
surely  cannot  know  who  we  are  and  whither  we  are  going. 

Absorbed  in  varied  meditations,  for  an  hour  and  a 
half  I  pay  no  heed  to  the  crooked  numbers  inscribed 
upon  the  verst-stones.  But  now  the  sun  begins  to  warm 
my  head  and  back  with  more  fervor,  the  road  grows  more 
dusty,  the  triangular  cover  of  the  tea-caddy  begins  to 

1  Arch  over  the  middle  horse  of  a  troTka,  or  three  horses  harnessed 
abreast.     Pronounced  doog.  —  Tr. 


I20  BOYHOOD 

discommode  me  greatly,  and  I  change  my  position  Sev- 
eral times.  I  am  becoming  hot  and  uncomfortable  and 
bored.  My  whole  attention  is  directed  to  the  verst- 
stones,  and  the  figures  upon  them.  I  make  various 
mathematical  calculations  as  to  the  time  it  will  take  us 
to  reach  the  station. 

"  Twelve  versts  make  one-third  of  thirty-six,  and  it  is 
forty- one  to  Lipetz ;  consequently  we  have  traveled 
only  one-third  and  how  much  .'' "  and  so  forth. 

"Vasily,"  I  say,  when  I  observe  that  he  is  beginning 
to  nod  upon  the  box,  "let  me  come  on  the  box,  that  's  a 
dear."  Vasily  consents  :  we  change  places  ;  he  immedi- 
ately begins  to  snore  and  roll  about  so  that  there  is  no 
room  left  for  any  one  in  the  britchka ;  and  before  me, 
from  the  height  which  I  occupy,  the  most  delightful 
picture  presents  itself,  —  our  four  horses,  Nerutchin- 
skaya,^  the  Chanter,  Lyevaya,  the  pole-horse,  and  Apothe- 
cary, all  of  whom  I  know  by  heart  in  the  most  minute 
details  and  shades  of  each  quality. 

"  Why  is  the  Chanter  on  the  right  side  to-day  instead 
of  on  the  left,  Philip  } "  I  inquire  with  diffidence. 

"The  Chanter.?" 

"  And  Nerutchinskaya  is  not  drawing  at  all,"  I  say. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  harness  the  Chanter  on  the  left," 
says  Philip,  paying  no  attention  to  my  last  remark. 
"  He  is  not  the  kind  of  horse  which  can  be  harnessed 
on  the  left ;  on  the  left  a  horse  is  needed  which  is  a 
horse,  in  one  word,  and  he's  not  such  a  horse  as  that." 

And  with  these  words,  Philip  bends  over  to  the  right, 
and,  pulling  on  the  reins  with  all  his  might,  he  begins 
to  whip  poor  Chanter  on  the  tail  and  legs  in  a  peculiar 
manner  from  below  ;  and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  Chan- 
ter tries  with  all  his  might,  and  drags  the  whole  britchka 
along,  Philip  ceases  this  manoeuver  only  when  he  finds 
it  necessary  to  take  a  rest  and  tip  his  hat  over  on  one 
side,  for  some  unknown  reason,  although  it  was  sitting- 
very  properly  and  firmly  on  his  head  already.  I  take 
advantage  of  this  favorable  opportunity,  and  beg  Philip 
to  let  me  drive.     At  first  Philip  gives  me  one  rein,  then 

^  The  off  horse. 


BOYHOOD  121 

another ;  and  finally  all  six  reins  and  the  whip  are  trans- 
ferred to  my  hands,  and  I  am  perfectly  happy.  I  en- 
deavor in  every  way  to  imitate  Philip  ;  I  ask  him  whether 
that  is  right :  but  it  generally  ends  in  his  being  dissatis- 
fied with  me  ;  he  says  that  one  horse  is  pulling  a  great 
deal  and  that  another  is  not  pulling  at  all,  thrusts  his  elbow 
out  in  front  of  my  breast,  and  takes  the  reins  away  from 
me.  The  heat  increases  continually.  The  little  white 
clouds,  which  we  call  sheep,  begin  to  puff  up  higher  and 
higher,  like  soap-bubbles,  then  unite  and  take  on  a  dark 
gray  tint.  A  hand,  holding  a  bottle  and  a  little  package, 
emerges  from  the  coach  window.  Vasily  leaps  from  the 
box  with  wonderful  agility,  while  we  are  in  motion,  and' 
brings  us  little  cheesecakes  and  kvas. 

We  all  alight  from  the  carriages  at  a  sharp  descent, 
and  sometimes  have  a  race  to  the  bridge,  while  Vasily 
and  Yakoff  put  on  the  brakes,  and  support  the  coach  on 
both  sides  with  their  hands  as  though  they  were  able  to 
restrain  it  if  it  fell.  Then,  with  Mimi's  permission, 
either  I  or  Volodya  seat  ourselves  in  the  coach,  and 
Liubofchka  or  Katenka  takes  the  place  in  the  britchka. 
These  changes  afford  the  girls  great  pleasure,  because, 
as  they  justly  decide,  it  is  jollier  in  the  britchka.  Some- 
times, when  it  is  hot,  and  we  are  passing  through 
the  woods,  we  linger  behind  the  coach,  tear  off  green 
boughs,  and  build  an  arbor  in  the  britchka.  This  mov- 
ing arbor  overtakes  the  coach,  and  Liubotchka  pipes  up 
in  the  most  piercing  of  voices,  which  she  never  forgets 
to  do  on  any  occasion  which  affords  her  pleasure. 

But  here  is  the  village  where  we  are  to  dine  and  rest. 
We  have  already  smelled  the  village,  the  smoke,  tar,  lamb- 
skins. We  have  heard  the  sound  of  conversation,  steps, 
and  wheels ;  the  bells  already  sound  differently  from  what 
they  did  in  the  open  fields  ;  and  cottages  appear  on  either 
side  with  their  thatched  roofs,  carved  wooden  porches, 
and  little  windows  with  red  and  green  shutters,  between 
which  the  face  of  a  curious  woman  peeps  out.  Here 
are  the  little  peasant  boys  and  girls,  clad  only  in  thin 
little  smocks,  who  open  their  eyes  wide,  and  throw  out 
their  hands  and   stand  motionless  on  one  spot,  or  run 


122  BOYHOOD 

swiftly  with  their  little  bare  feet  through  the  dust,  after 
the  carriages,  and  try  to  climb  upon  the  trunks,  in  spite 
of  Philip's  roenacing  gestures.  The  blond  inhabitants 
hasten  up  to  the  carriages  from  every  direction,  and 
endeavor,  with  alluring  words  and  gestures,  to  entice 
the  travelers  from  each  other.  Tpru  !  the  gate  creaks, 
the  traces  catch  on  the  gate-posts,  and  we  enter  the 
courtyard.     Four  hours  of  rest  and  freedom  ! 

CHAPTER   II 

THE    THUNDER-STORM 

The  sun  declined  toward  the  west,  and  burned 
my  neck  and  cheeks  intolerably  with  its  hot,  slanting 
rays.  It  was  impossible  to  touch  the  scorching  sides 
of  the  britchka.  The  dust  rose  thickly  in  the  road, 
and  filled  the  air.  There  was  not  the  slightest  breeze 
to  carry  it  away.  In  front  of  us,  and  always  at  the 
same  distance,  rolled  the  tall,  dusty  body  of  the  coach 
with  the  boot,  from  behind  which,  now  and  then,  the 
knout  was  visible  as  the  coachman  flourished  it,  as 
well  as  his  hat  and  Yakoff's  cap.  I  did  not  know  what 
to  do  with  myself ;  neither  Volodya's  face,  which  was 
black  with  dust,  as  he  dozed  beside  me,  nor  the  move- 
ments of  Philip's  back,  nor  the  long  shadow  of  our 
britchka,  which  followed  us  beneath  the  oblique  rays 
of  the  sun,  afforded  me  any  diversion.  My  entire  at- 
tention was  directed  to  the  verst-stones,  which  I  per- 
ceived in  the  distance,  and  to  the  clouds,  which  had 
before  been  scattered  over  the  sky,  and  assuming 
threatening,  black  hues,  had  now  collected  into  one 
big,  dark  mass.  From  time  to  time,  the  thunder  rum- 
bled afar.  This  last  circumstance,  more  than  all  the 
rest,  increased  my  impatience  to  reach  the  post-house 
as  speedily  as  possible.  A  thunder-storm  occasioned 
me  an  indescribably  oppressive  sensation  of  sadness 
and  terror. 

It  is  still  ten  versts  to  the  nearest  village  ;  but 
the  great,  dark,  purple  cloud  which  has  collected,  God 


BOYHOOD  123 

knows  whence,  without  the  smallest  breeze,  is  moving 
swiftly  upon  us.  The  sun,  which  is  not  yet  hidden  by 
the  clouds,  brightly  illumines  its  dark  form  and  the 
gray  streaks  which  extend  from  it  to  the  very  horizon. 
From  time  to  time,  the  lightning  flashes  in  the  dis- 
tance ;  and  a  faint,  dull  roar  is  audible,  which  gradu- 
ally increases  in  volume,  approaches,  and  changes  into 
broken  peals  which  embrace  the  whole  heavens.  Vasily 
rises  from  the  box,  and  raises  the  cover  of  the  britchka. 
The  coachmen  put  on  their  long  coats,  and,  at  every 
clap  of  thunder,  remove  their  caps  and  cross  themselves. 
The  horses  prick  up  their  ears,  puff  out  their  nostrils  as 
if  smelling  the  fresh  air  which  is  wafted  from  the  ap- 
proaching thunder-cloud,  and  the  britchka  rolls  faster 
along  the  dusty  road.  I  feel  oppressed,  and  am  con- 
scious that  the  blood  courses  more  rapidly  through  my 
veins.  But  the  advance-guard  of  clouds  already  begins 
to  conceal  the  sun  ;  now  it  has  peeped  forth  for  the  last 
time,  has  illumined  the  terribly  dark  portion  of  the  hori- 
zon, and  vanished.  The  entire  landscape  suddenly  un- 
dergoes a  change,  and  assumes  a  gloomy  character.  The 
ash  woods  quiver ;  the  leaves  take  on  a  kind  of  dull 
whitish  hue,  and  stand  out  against  the  purple  back- 
ground of  cloud,  and  rustle  and  flutter ;  the  crowns  of 
the  great  birches  begin  to  rock,  and  tufts  of  dry  grass 
fly  across  the  road.  The  water  and  white-breasted 
swallows  circle  about  the  britchka,  and  fly  beneath  the 
horses,  as  though  with  the  intention  of  stopping  us  ; 
daws  with  ruffled  wings  fly  sideways  to  the  wind  ;  the 
edges  of  the  leather  apron,  which  we  have  buttoned  up, 
begin  to  rise,  and  admit  bursts  of  moist  v/ind,  and  flap 
and  beat  against  the  body  of  the  carriage.  The  light- 
ning seems  to  flash  in  the  britchka  itself,  dazzles  the 
vision,  and  for  a  moment  lights  up  the  gray  cloth,  the 
border  gimp,  and  Volodya's  figure  cowering  in  a  corner. 
At  the  same  moment,  directly  above  our  heads,  a  ma- 
jestic roar  resounds,  which  seems  to  rise  ever  higher 
and  higher,  and  to  spread  ever  wider  and  wider,  in  a 
vast  spiral,  gradually  gaining  force,  until  it  passes  into 
a  deafening  crash,   which    causes    one  involuntarily   to 


124  BOYHOOD 

tremble  and  hold  one's  breath.  The  wrath  of  Godl 
how  much  poetry  there  is  in  this  conception  of  the 
common  people  ! 

The  wheels  whirl  faster  and  faster.  From  the  backs 
of  Vasily,  and  of  Philip,  who  is  flourishing  his  reins,  I 
perceive  that  they  are  afraid.  The  britchka  rolls  swiftly 
down  the  hill,  and  thunders  over  the  bridge  of  planks. 
I  am  afraid  to  move,  and  momentarily  await  our  universal 
destruction. 

Tpru  !  the  trace  is  broken,  and,  in  spite  of  the  unceas- 
ing, deafening  claps  of  thunder,  we  are  forced  to  halt 
upon  the  bridge. 

•  I  lean  my  head  against  the  side  of  the  britchka,  and, 
catching  my  breath  with  a  sinking  of  the  heart,  I  listen 
despairingly  to  the  movements  of  Philip's  fat  black  fin- 
gers, as  he  slowly  ties  a  knot,  and  straightens  out  the 
traces,  and  strikes  the  side  horse  with  palm  and  whip- 
handle. 

The  uneasy  feelings  of  sadness  and  terror  increased 
within  me  with  the  force  of  the  storm  ;  but  when  the 
grand  moment  of  silence  arrived,  which  generally  pre- 
cedes the  thunder-clap,  these  feelings  had  reached  such 
a  point  that,  if  this  state  of  things  had  lasted  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  longer,  I  am  convinced  that  I  should  have 
died  of  excitement.  At  the  same  moment,  there  appears 
from  beneath  the  bridge  a  human  form,  clothed  only  in 
a  dirty,  ragged  shirt,  with  a  bloated,  senseless  face,  a 
shaven,  wagging,  totally  uncovered  head,  crooked,  nerve- 
less legs,  and  a  shining  red  stump  in  place  of  a  hand, 
which  he  thrusts  out  directly  at  the  britchka. 

"  Ba-a-shka  !  ^  Help-a-cripple  for-Christ's-sake  !  "  says 
the  beggar,  beginning  to  repeat  his  petition  by  rote,  in 
a  weak  voice,  as  he  crosses  himself  at  every  word,  and 
bows  to  his  very  belt. 

I  cannot  describe  the  feeling  of  chill  terror  which 
took  possession  of  my  soul  at  that  moment.  A  shud- 
der ran  through  my  hair,  and  my  eyes  were  riveted  on 
the  beggar,  in  a  stupor  of  fright. 

Vasily,  who  bestows  the  alms  on  the  journey,  is  giving 

^  Imperfect  pronunciation  of  batinslika,  little  fatlier. 


BOYHOOD  125 

Philip  directions  how  to  strengthen  the  trace;  and  it  is 
only  when  all  is  ready,  and  Philip,  gatherings  up  the 
reins,  climbs  upon  the  box,  that  he  begins  to  draw  some- 
thing from  his  side  pocket.  But  we  have  no  sooner 
started  than  a  dazzling  flash  of  lightning,  which  fills  the 
whole  ravine  for  a  moment  with  its  fiery  glare,  brings 
the  horses  to  a  stand,  and  is  accompanied,  without  the 
slightest  interval,  by  such  a  deafening  clap  of  thunder 
that  it  seems  as  though  the  whole  vault  of  heaven  were 
falling  in  ruins  upon  us.  The  wind  increases ;  the 
manes  and  tails  of  the  horses,  Vasily's  cloak,  and  the 
edges  of  the  apron,  take  one  direction,  and  flutter  wildly 
in  the  bursts  of  the  raging  gale.  A  great  drop  of  rain 
falls  heavily  upon  the  leather  hood  of  the  britchka,  then 
a  second,  a  third,  a  fourth  ;  and  all  at  once  it  beats  upon 
us  like  a  drum,  and  the  whole  landscape  resounds  with 
the  regular  murmur  of  falling  rain.  I  perceive,  from 
the  movement  of  Vasily's  elbow,  that  he  is  untying  his 
purse ;  the  beggar,  still  crossing  himself  and  bowing, 
runs  close  to  the  wheel,  so  that  it  seems  as  if  he  would 
be  crushed.  "Give-for-Christ's-sake  !  "  At  last  a  cop- 
per groschen  flies  past  us,  and  the  wretched  creature 
halts  with  surprise  in  the  middle  of  the  road  ;  his  smock, 
wet  through  and  through,  and  clinging  to  his  lean 
limbs,  flutters  in  the  gale,  and  he  disappears  from  our 
sight. 

The  slanting  rain,  driven  before  a  strong  wind,  poured 
down  as  from  a  bucket  ;  streams  trickled  from  Vas- 
ily's frieze  back  into  the  puddle  of  dirty  water  which 
had  collected  on  the  apron.  The  dust,  which  at  first 
had  been  beaten  into  pellets,  was  converted  into  liquid 
mud,  which  the  wheels  kneaded  ;  the  jolts  became  fewer, 
and  turbid  brooks  flowed  in  the  clayey  ruts.  The  light- 
ning-flashes grew  broader  and  paler  ;  the  thunder-claps 
were  no  longer  so  startling  after  the  uniform  sound  of 
the  rain. 

Now  the  rain  grows  less  violent  ;  the  thunder-cloud 
begins  to  disperse  into  undulating  cloudlets  ;  light  ap- 
pears in  the  place  where  the  sun  should  be,  and  a  scrap 
of    clear  azure   is  almost    visible   through   the    grayish 


126  BOYHOOD 

white  edges  of  the  thunder-cloud.  A  moment  more, 
and  a  timid  ray  of  sunlight  gleams  in  the  pools  along 
the  road,  upon  the  sheets  of  fine,  perpendicular  rain 
which  fall  as  if  through  a  sieve,  and  upon  the  shining, 
newly  washed  verdure  of  the  wayside  grass. 

The  black  thunder-cloud  overspreads  the  opposite 
jiortion  of  the  sky  in  equally  threatening  fashion,  but 
I  no  longer  fear  it.  I  experience  an  inexpressibly  joy- 
ous feeling  of  hope  in  life,  which  has  quickly  taken 
the  place  of  my  oppressive  sensation  of  fear.  My  soul 
smiles,  like  nature,  refreshed  and  enlivened. 

Vasily  turns  down  his  coat-collar,  takes  off  his  cap, 
and  shakes  it ;  Volodya  throws  back  the  apron  ;  I  lean 
out  of  the  britchka,  and  eagerly  drink  in  the  fresh,  per- 
fumed air.  The  shining,  well-washed  body  of  the  coach, 
with  its  boot  and  trunks,  rolls  along  in  front  of  us  ;  the 
backs  of  the  horses,  the  breeching  and  reins,  the  tires 
of  the  wheels,  all  are  wet,  and  glitter  in  the  sun  as 
though  covered  with  lacquer.  On  one  side  of  the  road 
a  limitless  field  of  winter  wheat,  intersected  here  and 
there  by  shallow  channels,  gleams  with  damp  earth  and 
verdure,  and  spreads,  in  a  carpet  of  varying  tints,  to  the 
very  horizon  ;  on  the  other  side  an  ash  grove,  with  an 
undergrowth  of  nut-bushes  and  wild  cherry,  stands  as 
in  an  overflow  of  bliss,  quite  motionless,  and  slowly 
sheds  the  bright  raindrops  from  its  well-washed  branches 
upon  last  year's  dry  leaves.  Crested  larks  flutter  about 
on  all  sides  with  joyous  song  and  fall ;  in  the  wet  bushes 
the  uneasy  movements  of  little  birds  are  audible,  and  the 
note  of  the  cuckoo  is  wafted  distinctly  from  the  heart 
of  the  wood.  The  marvelous  perfume  of  the  forest  is 
so  enchanting  after  this  spring  thunder-storm,  the  scent 
of  the  birches,  the  violets,  the  dead  leaves,  the  mush- 
rooms, the  wild  cherry  trees,  that  I  cannot  sit  still  in 
the  britchka,  but  jump  from  the  step,  run  to  the  bushes, 
and  in  spite  of  the  shower  of  raindrops  I  tear  off  wet 
branches  of  the  fluttering  cherry  trees,  switch  my  face 
with  them,  and  drink  in  their  wondrous  perfume. 

Without  heeding  the  fact  that  great  clods  of  mud 
adhere  to  my   boots,  and   that    my  stockings    are  wet 


BOYHOOD  127 

through  long  ago,  I  splash  through  the  mud,  at  a  run, 
to  the  window  of  the  coach. 

"  Liubotchka  !  Katenka  !  "  I  cry,  handing  in  several 
branches  of  cherry,  "  see  how  beautiful  !  " 

The  girls  squeal,  and  cry  "  Ah  !  "  Mimi  screams  that 
I  am  to  go  away,  or  I  shall  infallibly  be  crushed. 

"  Smell  how  sweet  it  is  !  "  I  shout. 


CHAPTER    III 

A    NEW    VIEW 

Katenka  was  sitting  beside  me  in  the  britchka,  and,- 
with  her  pretty  head  bent,  was  thoughtfully  watching 
the  dusty  road  as  it  flew  past  beneath  the  wheels.  I 
gazed  at  her  in  silence,  and  wondered  at  the  sad,  un- 
childish  expression  which  I  encountered  for  the  first 
time  on  her  rosy  little  face. 

"We  shall  soon  be  in  Moscow  now,"  said  I.  "What 
do  you  think  it  is  like  .''  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  answered  unwillingly, 

"  But  what  do  you  think  ?  Is  it  bigger  than  Serpu- 
khoff,  or  not .-'  " 

"What.?" 

"Oh,  nothing." 

But  through  that  instinct  by  means  of  which  one 
person  divines  the  thoughts  of  another,  and  which  serves 
as  a  guiding  thread  in  conversation,  Katenka  under- 
stood that  her  indifference  pained  me  ;  she  raised  her 
head,  and  turned  toward  me. 

"  Your  papa  has  told  you  that  we  are  to  live  with 
grandmamma.?" 

"Yes,  grandmamma  insists  on  our  living  with  her." 

"  And  we  are  all  to  live  there  }  " 

"  Of  course  ;  we  shall  live  up-stairs  in  one  half  of  the 
house ;  you  will  live  in  the  other  half,  and  papa  will  live 
in  the  wing ;  but  we  shall  all  dine  together  down-stairs 
with  grandmamma." 

"  Mamma  says  that  your  grandmother  is  so  majestic 
—  and  cross." 


128  BOYHOOD 

"  No-o  !  She  only  seems  so  at  first.  She  is  majestic, 
but  not  at  all  cross ;  on  the  contrary,  she  is  very  kind 
and  cheerful.  If  you  had  only  seen  what  a  ball  we  had 
on  her  name-day  ! " 

"  Nevertheless,  I  am  afraid  of  her ;  and  besides,  God 
knows  if  we  shall .,.." 

Katenka  stopped  suddenly,  and  agairf fell  into  thought. 

"What  is  it  .-*  "  I  asked  uneasily. 

"Nothing." 

"Yes,  but  you  said,  'God  knows  ....'  " 

"  And  you  said,  '  What  a  ball  we  had  at  grandmam- 
ma's.'" 

"  Yes,  it 's  a  pity  that  you  were  not  there  ;  there  were 
ever  so  many  guests, — forty  people,  music,  generals, 
and  I  danced.  Katenka  !  "  I  said  all  at  once,  pausing 
in  the  middle  of  my  description,  "you  are  not  listening." 

"Yes,  I  am  ;  you  said  that  you  danced." 

"  Why  are  you  so  sad  .''  " 

"  One  can't  be  gay  all  the  time." 

"  No ;  you  have  changed  greatly  since  we  returned 
from  Moscow.  Tell  me  truly,"  I  added,  with  a  look  of 
determination,  as  I  turned  toward  her,  "  why  have  you 
grown  so  strange  .''  " 

"  Am  I  strange  .•'  "  replied  Katenka,  with  an  anima- 
tion which  showed  that  my  remark  interested  her.  "  I 
am  not  at  all  strange." 

"  You  are  not  as  you  were  formerly,"  I  went  on.  "  It 
used  to  be  evident  that  we  were  one  in  everything,  that 
you  regarded  us  as  relatives,  and  loved  us,  just  as  we 
did  you  ;  and  now  you  have  become  so  serious,  you  keep 
apart  from  us ...." 

"  Not  at  all !  " 

"  No,  let  me  finish,"  I  interrupted,  already  beginning 
to  be  conscious  of  a  slight  tickling  in  my  nose,  which 
preceded  the  tears  that  were  always  rising  to  my  eyes, 
when  I  gave  utterance  to  a  long-repressed,  tender 
thought.  "  You  withdraw  from  us  ;  you  talk  only  with 
Minii,  as  if  you  did  not  want  to  have  anything  to  do 
with  us." 

"  Well,  it 's  impossible  to  remain  the  same  always ; 


BOYHOOD  129 

one  must  change  sometime,"  replied  Katenka,  who  had 
a  habit  of  explaining  everything  by  a  kind  of  fatalistic 
necessity,  when  she  did  not  know  what  to  say. 

I  remember  that  once,  after  quarreling  with  Liubot- 
chka,  who  had  called  her  a  stupid  little  girl,  she  an- 
swered, "  Everybody  cannot  be  wise  ;  some  people  must 
be  stupid."  But  this  reply,  that  a  change  was  neces- 
sary sometime,  did  not  satisfy  me,  and  I  pursued  my 
inquiries  :  — • 

"  Why  is  it  necessary  .'  " 

"Why,  we  can't  live  together  always,"  answered 
Katenka,  reddening  slightly,  and  staring  steadily  at 
Philip's  back.  "  My  mamma  could  live  with  your  dead 
mamma,  because  she  was  her  friend  ;  but  God  knows 
whether  she  will  get  along  with  the  countess,  who  is 
said  to  be  so  cross.  Besides,  we  must  part  some  day, 
in  any  case.  You  are  rich,  you  have  Petrovskoe  ;  but 
we  are  poor,  my  mamma  has  nothing." 

You  are  rich  ;  we  are  poor !  These  words,  and  the 
ideas  connected  with  them,  seemed  very  strange  to  me. 
According  to  my  notions  at  that  period,  only  beggars 
and  peasants  could  be  poor,  and  this  idea  of  poverty  I 
could  never  reconcile  in  my  imagination  with  pretty, 
graceful  Katenka.  It  seemed  to  me  that,  since  Mimi 
and  Katenka  had  once  lived  with  us,  they  would  always 
do  so,  and  share  everything  equally.  It  could  not 
be  otherwise.  But  now  a  thousand  new,  undefined 
thoughts,  touching  their  equality  of  position,  dawned 
on  my  brain  ;  and  I  was  so  ashamed  that  we  were  rich, 
that  I  blushed,  and  positively  could  not  look  Katenka 
in  the  face. 

"  What  does  it  mean  .' "  I  thought,  "that  we  are  rich 
and  they  are  poor  .^  And  how  does  that  entail  the 
necessity  of  a  separation  .''  Why  cannot  we  share  what 
we  have  equally  .-•  "  But  I  understood  that  it  was  not 
fitting  that  I  should  speak  to  Katenka  about  this  ;  and 
some  practical  instinct,  which  ran  contrary  to  these 
logical  deductions,  already  told  me  that  she  was  right, 
and  that  it  would  be  out  of  place  to  explain  this  idea 
to  her. 


ijo  BOYHOOD 

"  Are  you  actually  going  to  leave  us  ? "  I  said.  "  How 
shall  we  live  apart  ?  " 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?  It  pains  me  too  ;  but  if  this 
takes  place,  I  know  what  I  shall  do." 

"  You  will  become  an  actress  !  What  nonsense  ! " 
I  broke  in,  knowing  that  it  had  always  been  one  of  her 
cherished  dreams  to  be  an  actress. 

"  No  ;  I  said  that  when  I  was  very  small." 

"What  will  you  do,  then  ?" 

"  I  will  go  into  a  convent,  and  live  there,  and  go  about 
in  a  black  gown  and  a  velvet  hood." 

Katenka  began  to  cry. 

Has  it  ever  happened  to  you,  reader,  to  perceive,  all 
at  once,  at  a  certain  period  of  your  life,  that  your  view 
of  things  has  entirely  changed,  as  though  all  the  ob- 
jects which  you  had  seen  hitherto  had  suddenly  turned 
another,  unknown  side  to  you }  This  species  of  moral 
change  took  place  in  me  for  the  first  time  during  our 
journey,  from  which  epoch  I  date  the  beginning  of  my 
boyhood. 

For  the  first  time  a  distinct  idea  entered  my  head 
that  not  we,  that  is  to  say,  our  family,  alone  inhabited 
this  world  ;  that  all  interests  did  not  revolve  about  us  ; 
and  that  there  exists  another  life  of  people  who  have 
nothing  in  common  with  us,  who  care  nothing  for  us, 
who  have  no  idea  of  our  existence  even.  No  doubt,  I 
had  known  all  this  before ;  but  I  had  not  known  it  as  I 
knew  it  now.     I  did  not  acknowledge  it  or  feel  it. 

A  thought  often  passes  into  conviction  by  one  familiar 
path,  which  is  often  entirely  unexpected  and  apart  from 
the  paths  which  other  souls  traverse  to  arrive  at  the 
same  conclusion.  The  conversation  with  Katenka, 
which  affected  me  powerfully,  and  caused  me  to  re- 
flect upon  her  future  position,  constituted  that  path 
for  me.  When  I  looked  at  the  villages  and  towns  which 
we  traversed,  in  every  house  of  which  lived  at  least  one 
such  family  as  ours  ;  at  the  women  and  children  who 
gazed  after  our  carriages  with  momentary  curiosity,  and 
vanished  forever  from  sight  ;  at  the  shopkeepers  and 
the  peasants,  who  not  only  did   not  salute  us  as   I  was 


BOYHOOD  ni 

accustomed  to  see  them  do  in  Petrovskoe,  but  did  not 
deign  so  much  as  a  glance,  —  the  question  entered  my 
mind  for  the  first  time  :  What  could  occupy  them  if  they 
cared  nothing  for  us  ?  And  from  this  question,  others 
arose :  How  and  by  what  means  do  they  live  ?  how  do 
they  bring  up  their  children  ?  do  they  instruct  them,  or 
let  them  play  ?  how  do  they  punish  them  ?  and  so 
forth. 


CHAPTER   IV 

IN    MOSCOW 

On  our  arrival  in  Moscow,  the  change  in  my  views  of 
things,  people,  and  my  own  relations  to  them  became  still 
more  sensible.  When,  at  my  first  meeting  with  grand- 
mamma, I  saw  her  thin,  wrinkled  face  and  dim  eyes, 
the  feeling  of  servile  reverence  and  terror  which  I  had 
entertained  for  her  changed  to  one  of  pity  ;  and  when 
she  bowed  her  face  upon  Liubotchka's  head,  and  burst 
out  sobbing,  as  though  the  corpse  of  her  beloved  daughter 
were  before  her  eyes,  even  the  feeling  of  pity  in  my  heart 
was  changed  into  love.  It  made  me  uncomfortable  to 
see  her  sorrow  at  meeting  us.  I  recognized  the  fact 
that  we,  of  ourselves,  were  nothing  in  her  eyes  ;  that 
we  were  dear  to  her  only  as  reminders.  I  felt  that  this 
thought  was  expressed  in  every  one  of  the  kisses  with 
which  she  covered  my  cheeks  :  "She  is  dead  ;  she  is 
gone  ;  I  shall  never  see  her  more." 

Papa,  who  had  next  to  nothing  to  do  with  us  in  Mos- 
cow, and,  with  ever  anxious  face,  came  to  us  only  at 
dinner-time,  in  a  black  coat  or  dress-suit,  lost  a  great 
deal  in  my  eyes,  along  with  his  big  flaring  collars,  his 
dressing-gown,  his  stewards,  his  clerks,  and  his  expedi- 
tions of  the  threshing-floor  and  hunting.  Karl  Ivanitch, 
whom  grandmamma  called  dyadka}  and  who  had  sud- 
denly taken  it  into  his  head,  God  knows  why,  to  ex- 
change his  respectable  and  familiar  baldness  for  a  red 

1  Child's  valet 


132  BOYHOOD 

wig  with  a  thread  parting  almost  in  the  middle  of  his 
head,  seemed  to  me  so  strange  and  ridiculous,  that  I 
wondered  how  I  could  have  failed  to  remark  it  before. 

Some  invisible  barrier  also  made  its  appearance  be- 
tween the  girls  and  us.  Both  they  and  we  had  our  own 
secrets.  They  seemed  to  take  on  airs  before  us  over 
their  petticoats,  which  grew  longer,  and  we  were  proud 
of  our  trousers  with  straps.  And  Mimi  appeared  at  the 
first  Sunday  dinner  in  such  an  elegant  gown,  and  with 
such  ribbons  on  her  head,  that  it  was  at  once  apparent 
that  we  were  not  in  the  country,  and  that  everything 
was  to  be  different  now. 

CHAPTER  V 

THE    ELDER    BROTHER 

I  WAS  only  a  year  and  some  months  younger  than 
Volodya ;  we  had  grown  up,  studied,  and  played  together 
always.  The  distinction  of  elder  and  younger  had  not 
been  made  between  us.  But  just  about  the  time  of 
which  I  am  speaking  I  began  to  comprehend  that  Volo- 
dya was  not  my  comrade  in  years,  inclinations,  and 
qualities.  It  even  seemed  to  me  that  Volodya  recog- 
nized his  superiority,  and  was  proud  of  it.  This  con- 
viction, possibly  a  false  one,  inspired  me  with  self-love, 
which  suffered  at  every  encounter  with  him.  He  stood 
higher  than  I  in  everything,  in  amusements,  in  studies, 
in  quarrels,  in  the  knowledge  of  how  to  conduct  him- 
self ;  and  all  this  removed  me  to  a  distance  from  him, 
and  caused  me  to  experience  moral  torments  which  were 
incomprehensible  to  me.  If,  on  the  first  occasion  when 
Volodya  put  on  cambric  shirts  with  plaits,  I  had  said 
plainly  that  I  was  vexed  at  not  having  the  same,  I  am 
sure  that  I  should  have  been  more  comfortable,  and  it 
would  not  have  seemed,  every  time  that  he  adjusted 
his  collar,  that  it  was  done  solely  in  order  to  hurt  my 
feelings. 

What  tormented  me  most  of   all  was  that  Volodya 


BOYHOOD  IJ3 

understood  me,  as  it  seemed  to  me  at  times,  but  tried 
to  hide  it. 

Who  has  not  remarked  those  secret,  wordless  rela- 
tions which  are  shown  in  an  imperceptible  smile,  a 
motion,  or  a  glance,  between  people  who  live  together 
constantly,  brothers,  friends,  husband  and  wife,  master 
and  servant,  and  particularly  when  these  people  are  not 
in  every  respect  frank  with  each  other  !  How  many 
unuttered  desires,  thoughts,  and  fears  —  of  being  under- 
stood—  are  expressed  in  one  casual  glance  when  our 
eyes  meet  timidly  and  irresolutely  ! 

But  possibly  I  was  deceived  on  this  point  by  my  ex- 
cessive sensibility,  and  tendency  to  analysis  ;  perhaps 
Volodya  did  not  feel  at  all  as  I  did.  He  was  impetuous, 
frank,  and  inconstant  in  his  impulses.  He  was  carried 
away  by  the  most  diverse  objects,  and  he  entered  into 
them  with  his  whole  soul. 

At  one  time  a  passion  for  pictures  took  possession  of 
him ;  he  took  to  drawing  himself,  spent  all  his  money  on 
it,  begged  of  his  drawing-master,  of  papa,  and  of  grand- 
mamma ;  then  it  was  a  passion  for  articles  with  which  he 
decorated  his  table,  and  he  collected  them  from  all  parts 
of  the  house  ;  then  a  passion  for  romances,  which  he 
procured  on  the  sly,  and  read  all  day  and  all  night.  I 
was  involuntarily  carried  away  by  his  hobbies ;  but 
I  was  too  proud  to  follow  in  his  footsteps,  and  too  young 
and  too  little  self-dependent  to  select  a  new  path.  But 
there  was  nothing  which  I  envied  so  much  as  Volodya's 
happy,  frank,  and  noble  character,  which  was  displayed 
with  special  clearness  in  the  quarrels  which  took  place 
between  us.  I  felt  that  he  behaved  well,  but  could  not 
imitate  him. 

Once,  during  the  greatest  fervor  of  his  passion  for 
ornamental  articles,  I  went  up  to  his  table,  and  uninten- 
tionally broke  an  empty  variegated  little  smelling-bottle. 

"Who  asked  you  to  touch  my  things.''"  said  Volodya, 
as  he  entered  the  room  and  perceived  the  havoc  which 
I  had  wrought  in  the  symmetry  of  the  varied  ornaments 
of  his  table;  "and  where 's  that  little  smelling-bottle.^ 
You  must  have  ...." 


134  BOYHOOD 

"  I  dropped  it  unintentionally  ;  it  broke.  Where  's  the 
harm?" 

"Please  never  to  dare  to  touch  my  things,"  he  said, 
putting  the  bits  of  the  broken  bottle  together,  and 
regarding  them  sorrowfully. 

"  Please  doii  t give  any  orders,''  I  retorted.  "  I  broke  it, 
that 's  the  end  of  it :  what 's  the  use  of  talking  about  it.-*" 

And  I  smiled,  although  I  had  not  the  least  desire 
to  smile. 

"Yes,  it's  nothing  to  you,  but  it 's  sovietJiing  to  me," 
went  on  Volodya,  making  that  motion  of  shrugging  his 
shoulders  which  he  had  inherited  from  papa;  "he  has 
broken  it,  and  yet  he  laughs,  this  intolerable  little  boy!" 

"I  am  a  little  boy,  but  you  are  big  and  stupid." 

"I  don't  mean  to  quarrel  with  you,"  said  Volodya, 
giving  me  a  slight  push;  "go  away." 

"Don't  you  push  me!" 

"Take  yourself  off!  " 

"I  tell  you,  don't  you  push  me!" 

Volodya  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  tried  to  drag  me 
away  from  the  table ;  but  I  was  irritated  to  the  highest 
degree.  I  seized  the  table  by  the  leg,  and  tipped  it 
over.  "Take  that !  "  and  all  the  ornaments  of  porcelain 
and  glass  were  shivered  in  pieces  on  the  floor. 

"You  disgusting  little  boy!"  shrieked  Volodya,  at- 
tempting to  uphold  the  falling  ornaments. 

"Well,  everything  is  at  an  end  between  us  now!"  I 
thought,  .as  I  quitted  the  room;  "we  have  quarreled 
forever." 

We  did  not  speak  to  each  other  until  evening ;  I  felt 
myself  in  the  wrong,  was  afraid  to  look  at  him,  and 
could  not  occupy  myself  with  anything  all  day  long. 
Volodya,  on  the  contrary,  studied  well,  and  chatted  and 
laughed  with  the  girls  after  dinner,  as  usual. 

As  soon  as  our  teacher  had  finished  his  lessons,  I  left 
the  room.  I  was  too  afraid,  awkward,  and  conscience- 
stricken  to  remain  alone  with  my  brother.  After  the 
evening  lesson  in  history,  I  took  my  note-book,  and 
started  toward  the  door.  As  I  passed  Volodya,  in 
spite   of    the  fact  that  I  wanted  to  go  uj)  to  him  and 


BOYHOOD  135 

make  peace,  I  pouted,  and  tried  to  put  on  an  angry 
face.  Volodya  raised  his  head  just  at  that  moment,  and, 
with  a  barely  perceptible,  good-naturedly  derisive  smile, 
looked  boldly  at  me.  Our  eyes  met,  and  I  knew  that  he 
understood  me,  and  also  that  I  understood  that  he  under- 
stood me  ;  but  an  insuperable  feeling  made  me  turn  away. 

"Nikolenka! "  he  said,  in  his  usual  simple  and  not  at 
all  pathetic  voice,  "you  've  been  angry  long  enough. 
Forgive  me  if  I  insulted  you." 

And  he  gave  me  his  hand. 

All  at  once,  something  rose  higher  and  higher  in  my 
breast,  and  began  to  oppress  me,  and  stop  my  breath; 
tears  came  to  my  eyes,  and  I  felt  better. 

*'For-give  me,  Vol-dya!"  I  said,  squeezing  his  hand. 

But  Volodya  looked  at  me  as  though  he  could  not  at 
all  comprehend  why  there  were  tears  in  my  eyes. 


CHAPTER   VI 

MASCHA 

But  not  one  of  the  changes  which  took  place  in  my 
views  of  things  was  so  surprising  to  me  myself,  as  that 
in  consequence  of  which  I  ceased  to  regard  one  of  our 
maids  as  a  servant  of  the  female  sex,  and  began  to 
regard  her  as  a  zvomau,  on  whom  my  peace  and  happi- 
ness might,  in  some  degree,  depend. 

From  the  time  when  I  can  remember  anything,  I 
recall  Mascha  in  our  house ;  and  never,  until  the  occa- 
sion which  altered  my  view  of  her  completely,  and  which 
I  will  relate  presently,  did  I  pay  the  slightest  attention 
to  her.  Mascha  was  twenty-five  when  I  was  fourteen  ; 
she  was  very  pretty.  But  I  am  afraid  to  describe  her. 
I  fear  lest  my  fancy  should  again  present  to  me  the 
enchanting  and  deceitful  picture  which  existed  in  it 
during  the  period  of  my  passion  for  her.  In  order  to 
make  no  mistake,  I  will  merely  say  that  she  was  re- 
markably white,  luxuriantly  developed,  and  was  a  woman  ; 
and  I  was  fourteen  years  old. 


136  BOYHOOD 

At  one  of  those  moments  when,  lesson  in  hand,  you 
busy  yourself  with  a  promenade  up  and  down  the  room, 
endeavoring  to  step  only  on  one  crack  in  the  floor,  or 
with  the  singing  of  some  incoherent  air,  or  the  smear- 
ing of  the  edge  of  the  table  with  ink,  or  the  repetition, 
without  the  application  of  any  thought,  of  some  phrase, 
—  in  a  word,  at  one  of  those  moments  when  the  mind 
refuses  to  act,  and  the  imagination,  assuming  the  upper 
hand,  seeks  an  impression,  —  I  stepped  out  of  the  school- 
room, and  went  down  to  the  landing,  without  any  object 
whatever. 

Some  one  in  slippers  was  ascending  the  next  turn  of 
the  stairs.  Of  course  I  wanted  to  know  who  it  was  ; 
but  the  sound  of  the  footsteps  suddenly  ceased,  and  I 
heard  Mascha's  voice  :  — 

"  Now,  what  are  you  playing  pranks  for .-'  Will  it  be 
well  when  Marya  Ivanovna  comes  .''  " 

"  She  won't  come,"  said  Volodya's  voice  in  a  whisper, 
and  then  there  was  some  movement,  as  if  Volodya  had 
attempted  to  detain  her. 

"Now  what  are  you  doing  with  your  hands  .^  you 
shameless  fellow !  "  and  Mascha  ran  past  me  with  her 
neckerchief  pushed  to  one  side,  so  that  her  plump  white 
neck  was  visible  beneath  it. 

I  cannot  express  the  degree  of  amazement  which  this 
discovery  caused  me  ;  but  the  feeling  of  amazement  soon 
gave  way  to  sympathy  with  Volodya's  caper.  What  sur- 
prised me  was  not  his  behavior,  but  how  he  had  got  at 
the  idea  that  it  was  pleasant  to  behave  so.  And  invol- 
untarily I  began  to  want  to  imitate  him. 

I  sometimes  spent  whole  hours  on  that  landing,  with- 
out a  single  thought,  listening  with  strained  attention  to 
the  slightest  movement  which  proceeded  from  above  ; 
but  I  never  could  force  myself  to  imitate  Volodya,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  I  wanted  to  do  it  more  than  any- 
thing else  in  the  world.  Sometimes,  having  concealed 
myself  behind  a  door,  I  listened  with  envy  and  jealousy 
to  the  commotion  which  arose  in  the  maids'  room,  and 
the  thought  occurred  to  me.  What  would  be  my  position 
if  I  were  to  go  up-stairs,  and,  like  Volodya,  try  to  kiss 


BOYHOOD  137 

Mascha?  What  should  I,  with  my  broad  nose  and 
flaunting  tuft  of  hair,  say  when  she  asked  me  what  I 
wanted  ?  Sometimes  I  heard  Mascha  say  to  Volodya, 
"  Take  that  to  punish  you  !  Why  do  you  cling  to  me  ? 
Go  away,  you  scamp  !  Why  does  n't  Nikolai  Petrovitch 
ever  come  here  and  make  a  fool  of  himself  ?  "  She  did 
not  know  that  Nikolai  Petrovitch  was  at  that  moment 
sitting  under  the  stairs,  and  would  have  given  every- 
thing in  the  world  to  be  in  the  place  of  the  scamp  Vo- 
lodya. 

I  was  m'odest  by  nature,  but  my  modesty  was  further 
increased  by  the  conviction  of  my  own  ugliness.  And 
I  am  sure  that  nothing  has  such  a  decisive  influence 
upon  a  man's  course  as  his  personal  appearance,  and  not 
so  much  his  appearance  as  his  belief  in  its  attractiveness 
or  unattractiveness. 

I  was  too  egotistical  to  become  accustomed  to  my 
position,  and  consoled  myself,  like  the  fox,  by  assuring 
myself  that  the  grapes  were  still  green  ;  that  is  to  say, 
I  endeavored  to  despise  all  the  pleasures  derived  from 
the  pleasing  exterior  which  Volodya  enjoyed  in  my  eyes, 
and  which  I  envied  with  all  my  soul,  and  I  strained 
every  nerve  of  my  mind  and  imagination  to  find  solace 
in  proud  solitude. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SHOT 

"  My  God,  powder ! "  screamed  Mimi,  panting  with 
emotion.  "What  are  you  doing.?  Do  you  want  to 
burn  the  house  down,  and   ruin  us  all .'' " 

And,  with  an  indescribable  expression  of  firmness, 
Mimi  commanded  all  to  retire,  walked  up  to  the  scat- 
tered shot  with  long  and  determined  strides,  and,  de- 
spising the  danger  which  might  result  from  a  premature 
explosion,  she  began  to  stamp  it  out  with  her  feet. 
When,  in  her  opinion,  the  danger  was  averted,  she 
called  Mikhel,  and  ordered  him  to  fling  all  that  powdef 


138  BOYHOOD 

as  far  away  as  possible,  or,  what  was  better  still,  into 
the  water ;  and,  proudly  smoothing  her  cap,  she  betook 
herself  to  the  drawing-room.  "They  are  well  looked 
after,  there  's  no  denying  that,"  she  grumbled. 

When  papa  came  from  the  wing,  and  we  accompanied 
him  to  grandmamma,  Mimi  was  already  seated  near  the 
window  in  her  room,  gazing  threateningly  at  the  door 
with  a  certain  mysteriously  official  expression.  She 
held  something  enveloped  in  several  papers  in  her  hand. 
I  guessed  that  it  was  the  shot,  and  that  grandmamma 
already  knew  everything. 

In  grandmamma's  room  there  were,  besides  Mimi, 
Gascha  the  maid,  who,  as  was  evident  from  her  red  and 
angry  face,  was  very  much  put  out ;  and  Dr.  Blumenthal, 
a  small,  pock-marked  man,  who  was  vainly  endeavoring 
to  calm  Gascha  by  making  mysterious  and  pacifying 
signs  to  her  with  his  eyes  and  head. 

Grandmamma  herself  was  sitting  rather  sideways,  and 
laying  out  her  "patience,"  the  Traveler,  which  always 
indicated  an  extremely  unpropitious  frame  of  mind. 

"  How  do  you  feel  to-day,  mamma .''  have  you  slept 
well  "*.  "  said  papa,  as  he  respectfully  kissed  her  hand. 

"Very  well,  my  dear;  I  believe  you  know  that  I 
am  always  well,"  replied  grandmamma,  in  a  tone  which 
seemed  to  indicate  that  papa's  question  was  as  mis- 
placed and  insulting  as  it  could  be.  "  Well,  are  you 
going  to  give  me  a  clean  handkerchief.''"  she  continued, 
turning  to  Gascha. 

"  I  have  given  it  to  you,"  replied  Gascha,  pointing  to 
a  cambric  handkerchief,  as  white  as  snow,  which  lay 
on  the  arm  of  the  chair. 

"Take  away  that  dirty  thing,  and  give  me  a  clean 
one,  my  dear." 

Gascha  went  to  the  chiffon nier,  pulled  out  a  drawer, 
and  slammed  it  in  again  with  such  force  that  all  the 
glass  in  the  room  rattled.  Grandmamma  glanced  round 
with  a  threatening  look  at  all  of  us,  and  continued  to 
watch  the  maid's  movements  attentively.  When  the 
latter  gave  her  what  appeared  to  me  to  be  the  same 
handkerchief,  grandmamma  said  :  — 


BOYHOOD  139 

"When  will  you  grind  my  snuff,  my  dear?" 

"When  there's  time,  I  '11  do  it," 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  " 

"I  '11  do  it  to-day." 

"If  you  don't  wish  to  serve  me,  my  dear,  you  might 
have  said  so  ;  I  would  have  discharged  you  long  ago." 

"  If  you  discharge  me,  I  shan't  cry,"  muttered  the 
maid,  in  a  low  tone. 

At  that  moment  the  doctor  tried  to  wink  at  her ;  but 
she  looked  at  him  with  so  much  anger  and  decision  that 
he  immediately  dropped  his  eyes,  and  busied  himself 
with  his  watch-key. 

"You  see,  my  dear,"  said  grandmamma,  turning  to" 
papa,  when  Gascha,  still  muttering,  had  left  the  room, 
"how  people  speak  to  me  in  my  own  house." 

"If  you  will  permit  me,  mamma,  I  will  grind  your 
snuff,"  said  papa,  who  was  evidently  very  much  embar- 
rassed by  this  unexpected  behavior. 

"No,  I  th&nk  you;  she  is  impudent  because  she 
knows  that  no  one  but  herself  understands  how  to  grind 
snuff  as  I  like  it.  You  know,  my  dear,"  went  on  grand- 
mamma, after  a  momentary  pause,  "that  your  children 
came  near  setting  the  house  on  fire  to-day .'' " 

Papa  gazed  at  grandmamma  with  respectful  curiosity. 

"  This  is  what  they  play  with.  —  Show  him,"  she  said, 
turning  to  Mimi. 

Papa  took  the  shot  in  his  hand,  and  could  not  forbear 
a  smile. 

"  Why,  this  is  shot,  mamma,"  said  he  ;  "  it 's  not  at  all 
dangerous." 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  my  dear,  for  teach- 
ing me,  only  I  'm  too  old." 

"  Nerves  !  nerves  !  "  whispered  the  doctor. 

And  papa  immediately  turned  to  us. 

"  Where  did  you  get  that  ?  and  how  dare  you  play 
pranks  with  such  things  .-*  " 

"  Don't  ask  them  anything ;  you  must  ask  their  dy- 
adka,"  ^  said  grandmamma,  pronouncing  the  word  dyadka 
with  particular  contempt,  "what  he  is  looking  after." 

1  Child's  valet. 


140  BOYHOOD 

"  Waldemar  said  that  Karl  Ivanitch  himself  gave  him 
\.\\\s,  poivder,"  put  in  Mimi. 

"Now  you  see  what  he  is  good  for,"  continued  grand- 
mamma. "  And  where  is  he,  that  dyadka,  what 's  his 
name?     Send  him  here," 

"  I  gave  him  leave  to  go  out  and  make  a  visit,"  said 
papa. 

"There's  no  sense  in  that;  he  ought  to  be  here  all 
the  time.  The  children  are  not  mine,  but  yours,  and  I 
have  no  right  to  advise  you,  because  you  are  wiser  than 
I,"  pursued  grandmamma  ;  "but  it  does  seem  as  though 
it  were  time  to  engage  a  tutor  for  them,  and  not  a  valet, 
a  German  peasant,  —  yes,  a  stupid  peasant,  who  can 
teach  them  nothing  except  bad  manners  and  Tyrolese 
songs.  Is  it  extremely  necessary,  now,  I  ask  you,  that 
children  should  know  how  to  sing  Tyrolese  songs .'' 
However,  nobody  thinks  of  this  iioiu,  and  you  can  do 
as  you  please." 

The  word  "now"  meant  that  they  had  no  mother, 
and  called  up  sad  memories  in  grandmamma's  heart. 
She  dropped  her  eyes  on  her  snuff-box,  with  its  portrait, 
and  became  thoughtful. 

"  I  have  long  been  meditating  that,"  papa  hastened 
to  say,  "and  I  wanted  to  consult  with  you,  mamma. 
Shall  we  not  invite  St.  Jerome,  who  is  now  giving  them 
lessons  by  the  day  .'*  " 

"You  will  be  doing  extremely  well,  my  friend,"  said 
grandmamma,  and  no  longer  in  the  dissatisfied  tone  in 
which  she  had  spoken  before.  "St.  Jerome  is  at  least  a 
tutor  who  knows  how  children  of  good  family  should  be 
trained,  and  not  a  paltry  valet,  who  is  good  for  nothing 
but  to  take  them  to  walk." 

"  I  will  speak  to  him  to-morrow,"  said  papa. 

And,  in  fact,  two  days  after  this  conversation,  Karl 
Ivanitch  yielded  his  place  to  the  young  French  dandy. 


BOYHOOD  141 


CHAPTER    VIII 

KARL    IVANITCH's    HISTORY 

Late  in  the  evening  that  preceded  the  day  on  which 
Karl  Ivanitch  was  to  leave  us  forever,  he  stood  beside 
the  bed  in  his  wadded  gown  and  red  cap,  bending  over 
his  trunk,  and  carefully  packing  his  effects. 

Karl  Ivanitch's  intercourse  with  us  had  been  pecu- 
liarly dry  of  late.  He  seemed  to  avoid  all  connection 
with  us  ;  so  when  I  now  entered  the  room  he  glanced 
askance  at  me,  and  went  on  with  his  work.  I  lay  down 
on  my  bed,  but  Karl  Ivanitch,  who  had  in  former  times 
strictly  prohibited  this,  said  nothing  to  me  ;  and  the 
thought  that  he  would  never  more  scold  us  or  stop  us, 
that  he  had  no  concern  with  us  now,  reminded  me 
vividly  of  the  approaching  separation.  I  was  sorry 
that  he  had  ceased  to  love  us,  and  wanted  to  express 
this  feeling  to  him. 

"  Let  me  help  you,  Karl  Ivanitch,"  I  said,  going  up  to 
him. 

Karl  Ivanitch  glanced  at  me,  and  again  turned  aside  ; 
but  in  the  fleeting  look  which  he  cast  at  me  I  read,  not 
the  indifference  with  which  I  had  explained  his  cold- 
ness, but  genuine,  concentrated  grief. 

"  God  sees  all,  and  knows  all ;  and  may  His  holy  will 
be  done  in  all  things  !  "  he  said,  drawing  himself  up  to 
his  full  height,  and  sighing  heavily.  "Yes,  Nikolenka," 
he  went  on,  perceiving  the  expression  of  unfeigned  sym- 
pathy with  which  I  regarded  him,  "  it  is  my  fate  to  be 
unhappy  from  my  very  infancy  to  my  coffin.  I  have 
always  been  repaid  with  evil  for  the  good  which  I  have 
done  to  people ;  and  my  reward  is  not  here,  but  yonder,"' 
he  said,  pointing  toward  heaven.  "  If  you  only  knew 
my  history,  and  all  that  I  have  undergone  in  this  life  ! 
I  have  been  a  shoemaker,  I  have  been  a  soldier,  I  have 
been  a  deserter,  I  have  been  a  manufacturer,  I  have 
been  a  teacher,  and  now  I  am  nothing ;  and,  like  the 
Son  of  God,  I  have  nowhere  to  lay  my  head,"  he  con- 
cluded, and,  closing  his  eyes,  he  fell  into  a  chair. 


142  BOYHOOD 

Perceiving  that  Karl  Ivanitch  was  in  that  sensitive 
state  of  mind  in  which  he  uttered  his  inmost  thoughts 
for  his  own  satisfaction,  without  heeding  the  hearer,  I 
seated  myself  on  the  bed  in  silence,  and  without  re- 
moving my  eyes  from  his  kind  face. 

"  You  are  not  a  child,  you  can  understand.  I  will 
tell  you  my  story,  and  all  that  I  have  endured  in  this 
life.  Some  day  you  will  recall  the  old  friend,  who 
loved  you  very  much,  children." 

Karl  Ivanitch  leaned  his  elbow  on  the  table  which 
stood  beside  him,  took  a  pinch  of  snuff,  and,  rolling 
his  eyes  heavenward,  began  his  tale  in  that  peculiar, 
measured,  throat  voice,  in  which  he  usually  dictated 
to  us. 

"  /  ivas  unhappy  even  before  I  was  born,''  ^  he  said 
with  great  feeling. 

As  Karl  Ivanitch  related  his  history  to  me  more  than 
once  afterward,  in  exactly  the  same  terms,  and  always 
with  the  sarne  identical  intonations,  I  hope  to  be  able 
to  reproduce  it  almost  word  for  word,  the  faults  of 
language,  of  course,  excepted,  of  which  the  reader 
can  form  his  own  judgment  from  the  first  sentence. 
Whether  it  really  was  his  history,  or  a  production  of 
the  imagination,  which  had  had  its  birth  during  his 
lonely  life  in  our  house,  which  he  had  begun  to  believe 
in  himself  by  dint  of  frequent  repetition,  or  whether  he 
only  colored  the  real  events  of  his  life  with  fantastic 
facts,  I  have  not  been  able  to  decide  to  this  day.  On 
the  one  hand,  he  related  his  story  with  too  much  of 
that  lively  feeling  and  methodical  sequence  which  con- 
stitute the  chief  proofs  of  veracity,  to  permit  one  to 
doubt  it ;  on  the  other  hand,  there  was  too  much  poetic 
beauty  about  his  history,  so  that  this  very  beauty 
evoked  doubts. 

"  In  my  veins  flows  the  noble  blood  of  the  counts  of 
Sommerblatt.  I  was  born  six  weeks  after  marriage. 
My  mother's  husband  (I  called  him  papa)  was  a  farmer 
under    Count    Sommerblatt.       He    could    never    forget 

^  "  Das  ungliick  verfolgte  mich  schcn  i>n  Sckoosse  meiner  Mutter^ 
The  Russian  also  is  incorrect.  —  Tr. 


BOYHOOD  143 

my  mother's  shame,  and  did  not  love  me.  I  had  a 
little  brother  Johann  and  two  sisters ;  but  I  was  a 
stranger  in  the  midst  of  my  own  family.  When  Jo- 
hann  committed  any  follies,  papa  used  to  say,  '  I  never 
have  a  moment's  peace  with  that  child  Karl ! '  and  then 
I  was  scolded  and  punished.  When  my  sisters  got 
angry  with  each  other,  papa  said,  '  Karl  will  never  be 
an  obedient  boy  ! '  and  I  was  scolded  and  punished. 

"  My  good  mamma  alone  loved  me  and  petted  me. 
She  often  said  to  me,  *  Karl,  come  here,  to  my  room,' 
and  then  she  kissed  me  on  the  sly.  •  Poor,  poor  Karl ! ' 
she  said,  'no  one  loves  you,  but  I  would  not  change 
you  for  any  one.  One  thing  your  mamma  begs  of  you,'' 
she  said  to  me :  '  study  well,  and  always  be  an  honor- 
able man,  and  God  will  not  desert  you.'  And  I  tried. 
When  I  was  fourteen,  and  could  go  to  communion, 
mamma  said  to  papa,  *  Karl  is  a  big  boy  now,  Gustav : 
what  shall  we  do  with  him.-''  And  papa  said,  'I  don't 
know.'  Then  mamma  said,  '  Let  us  send  him  to  Herr 
Schultz  in  the  town,  and  let  him  be  a  shoemaker.' 
And  papa  said,  'Very  good.'  Six  years  and  seven 
months  I  lived  in  the  town,  with  the  master  shoemaker, 
and  the  master  loved  me.  He  said,  '  Karl  is  a  good 
workman,  and  he  shall  soon  be  my  partner.'  But  man 
proposes,  and  God  disposes.  In  1796  a  conscription 
was  appointed,  and  all  who  could  serve,  from  eighteen 
to  twenty-one  years  of  age,  must. assemble  in  the  town. 

"  Papa  and  brother  Johann  came  to  town,  and  we 
went  together  to  draw  lots  to  see  who  should  be  and 
who  should  not  be  a  soldier.  Johann  drew  a  bad  num- 
ber ;  he  must  become  a  soldier.  I  drew  a  good  num- 
ber ;  I  was  not  obliged  to  become  a  soldier.  And  papa 
said,  'I  had  one  son,  and  I  must  part  with  him.' 

"  I  took  his  hand,  and  said,  '  Why  did  you  say  that, 
papa .''  Come  with  me,  I  will  tell  you  something.' 
And  papa  went.  Papa  went,  and  we  seated  ourselves 
at  a  little  table.  'Give  us  a  couple  of  jugs  of  beer,' 
I  said,  and  they  were  brought.  VVe  drank  them  glass 
for  glass,  and  brother  Johann  drank  also. 

"  '  Papa,'  I  said,  '  do  not  say  that  you  had  one  son, 


144  BOYHOOD 

and  you  must  part  with  him.  My  heart  wants  to  leap 
out  when  I  hear  that.  Brother  Johann  shall  not  serve  ; 
I  will  be  a  soldier.  No  one  needs  Karl  here,  and  Karl 
will  be  a  soldier.' 

"  '  You  are  an  honest  man,  Karl  Ivanitch,'  said  papa 
to  me,  and  he  kissed  me. 

"  And  I  became  a  soldier." 


CHAPTER    IX 

CONTINUATION    OF    THE    PRECEDING 

"That  was  a  terrible  time,  Nikolenka,"  continued 
Karl  Ivanitch.  "  Napoleon  was  alive  then.  He  wanted 
to  conquer  Germany,  and  we  defended  our  fatherland  to 
the  last  drop  of  blood ! 

"I  was  at  Ulm,  I  was  at  Austerlitz,  I  was  at  Wagram." 

"Did  you  fight  too .-' "  I  asked,  gazing  at  him  in 
amazement.      "  Did  you  also  kill  people  } " 

Karl  Ivanitch  immediately  relieved  my  mind  on  that 
score. 

"  Once  a  French  grenadier  lingered  behind  his  com- 
rades, and  fell  by  the  way.  I  ran  up  with  my  gun,  and 
was  about  to  transfix  him  ;  but  the  Frenchman  threw 
away  his  weapons,  and  begged  for  mercy,  and  I  let  him 

go- 

"At  Wagram,  Napoleon  chased  us  to  the  islands,  and 
surrounded  us  so  that  there  was  no  safety  anywhere. 
For  three  days  we  had  no  provisions,  and  we  stood  in 
the  water  up  to  our  knees. 

"  The  miscreant  Napoleon  would  neither  take  us  nor 
leave  us. 

"  On  the  fourth  day,  thank  God,  we  were  taken  pris- 
oners, and  led  off  to  the  fortress.  I  had  on  blue  trou- 
sers, a  uniform  of  good  cloth,  fifteen  thalers  in  money, 
and  a  silver  watch,  the  gift  of  my  papa.  A  French 
soldier  took  all  from  me.  Fortunately  I  had  three 
ducats  left,  which  mamma  had  sewed  into  my  doublet 
Nobody  found  them. 


BOYHOOD  145 

"  I  did  not  wish  to  remain  long  in  the  fortress,  and 
decided  to  run  away.  Once  on  a  great  festival  day,  I 
told  the  sergeant  who  looked  after  us,  '  Herr  sergeant, 
this  is  a  solemn  festival,  and  I  want  to  observe  it.  Please 
fetch  two  bottles  of  Madeira,  and  we  will  drink  them 
together.'  And  the  sergeant  said, 'Very  good.'  When 
the  sergeant  brought  the  Madeira,  and  we  had  drunk  it 
in  a  wine-glass,  turn  and  turn  about,  I  took  him  by  the 
hand,  and  said,  '  Herr  sergeant,  do  you  happen  to  have 
a  father  and  mother.-''  He  said,  'Yes,  Herr  Mauer.' 
—  'My  father  and  mother,'  said  I,  'have  not  seen  me 
for  eight  years,  and  do  not  know  whether  I  am  alive  or 
whether  my  bones  are  lying  in  the  damp  earth.  O  Herr 
sergeant !  I  have  two  ducats,  which  were  in  my  doub- 
let ;  take  them,  and  let  me  go.  Be  my  benefactor,  and 
my  mamma  will  pray  to  Almighty  God  for  you  all  her  life.' 

"The  sergeant  drank  a  glass  of  Madeira,  and  said, 
'  Herr  Mauer,  I  love  and  pity  you  extremely ;  but  you 
are  a  prisoner,  and  I  am  a  soldier.'  I  pressed  his  hand, 
and  said,  '  Herr  sergeant ! ' 

"  And  the  sergeant  said,  '  You  are  a  poor  man,  and  I 
will  not  take  your  money  ;  but  I  will  help  you.  When 
I  go  to  bed,  buy  a  bucket  of  brandy  for  the  soldiers,  and 
they  will  sleep.     I  will  not  watch  you.' 

"  He  was  a  good  man.  I  bought  the  bucket  of  brandy  ; 
and  when  the  soldiers  were  drunk,  I  put  on  my  boots 
and  my  old  cloak,  and  went  out  of  the  door.  I  went  to 
the  wall,  with  the  intention  of  jumping  over;  but  there 
was  water  there,  and  I  would  not  spoil  my  last  rerpain- 
ing  clothes.     I  went  to  the  gate. 

"  The  sentry  was  marching  up  and  down  with  his  gun,^ 
and  he  looked  at  me.  '  Qui  vive  ? '  he  said  for  the  first 
time,  and  I  made  no  answer.  '  Qui  vive  f  said  he  the 
second  time,  and  I  made  no  answer.  '  Qui  vive  ? '  he 
said  for  the  third  time,  and  I  ran  azuay.  I  sprajig  into 
the  zuater,  cli)nbed  out  on  the  other  side,  and  took  to  my 
heels. 

1  Karl  Ivanitch's  language  is  an  extraordinary  mixture  of  bad  Russian 
and  German,  which  it  is  impossible  to  reproduce  without  much  tiresome 
repetition.  —  Tr. 


146  BOYHOOD 

"All  night  I  ran  along  the  road;  but  when  it  began 
to  dawn,  I  was  afraid  that  they  would  recognize  me.  and 
I  hid  in  the  tall  rye.  Then  I  knelt,  folded  my  hands, 
and  thanked  our  heavenly  Father  for  saving  me,  and 
fell  asleep  with  a  tranquil  mind. 

"  I  woke  in  the  evening,  and  proceeded  farther.  All 
at  once,  a  great  German  wagon  with  two  black  horses 
overtook  me.  In  the  wagon  sat  a  handsomely  dressed 
man,  who  was  smoking  a  pipe,  and  looking  at  me.  I 
walked  slowly,  in  order  that  the  wagon  might  pass  me ; 
but  when  I  went  slowly,  the  wagon  went  more  slowly 
still,  and  the  man  stared  at  me.  I  walked  faster  and 
the  wagon  went  faster,  and  the  man  stared  at  me.  I 
sat  down  by  the  roadside ;  the  man  stopped  his  horses, 
and  looked  at  me.  'Young  man,'  said  he,  'whither  are 
you  going  so  late .-' '  I  said,  'I  am  going  to  Frankfort.' 
— '  Get  into  my  wagon  ;  there  's  room,  and  I  will  take 
you  there.  Why  have  you  nothing  with  you  .''  why  is 
your  beard  unshaved  .-'  and  why  are  your  clothes  muddy  .'' ' 
he  said  to  me,  when  I  had  seated  myself  by  him.  'I 
am  a  poor  man,'  I  said.  '  I  want  to  hire  out  somewhere 
as  a  workman;  and  my  clothes  are  muddy  because  I 
fell  down  in  the  road.'  —  '  You  are  telling  an  untruth, 
young  man,'  said  he :  'the  road  is  dry  now.' 

"And  I  remained  silent. 

"'Tell  me  the  whole  truth,'  said  the  good  man  to 
me.  '  Who  are  you,  and  whence  come  you  ?  Your  face 
pleases  me,  and  if  you  are  an  honest  man  I  will  help 
you.' 

"And  I  told  him  all.  He  said,  'Very  good,  young 
man.  Come  to  my  rope-factory.  I  will  give  you  work, 
clothes,  and  money,  and  you  shall  live  with  me.' 

"And  I  said,  'Very  well.' 

"  We  went  to  the  rope-factory,  and  the  good  man  said 
to  his  wife,  *  Here  is  a  young  man  who  has  fought  for 
his  country,  and  escaped  from  captivity  ;  he  has  neither 
home,  clothes,  nor  bread.  He  will  live  with  me.  Give 
him  some  clean  linen,  and  feed  him.' 

"  I  lived  at  the  rope-factory  for  a  year  and  a  half,  and 
my  master  became  so  fond  of  me  that  he  would  not  let 


BOYHOOD  147 

me  go.  I  was  a  handsome  man  then ;  I  was  young,  tall, 
with  blue  eyes,  and  a  Roman  nose ;  and  Madame  L.  (I 
cannot  tell  her  name),  the  wife  of  my  master,  was  a 
young  and  pretty  woman,  and  she  fell  in  love  with  me. 

"When  she  saw  me,  she  said,  *  Herr  Mauer,  what 
does  your  mamma  call  you  .'' '     I  said,  '  Karlchen.' 

"And  she  said,  'Karlchen,  sit  here  beside  me.* 

"  I  seated  myself  beside  her,  and  she  said,  '  Karlchen, 
kiss  me ! ' 

"  I  kissed  her,  and  she  said,  '  Karlchen,  I  love  you  so, 
that  I  cannot  endure  it  any  longer,'  and  she  trembled 
all  over." 

Here  Karl  Ivanitch  made  a  prolonged  pause ;  and, 
rolling  up  his  kind  blue  eyes,  he  rocked  his  head,  and 
began  to  smile,  as  people  do  when  under  the  influence 
of  pleasant  recollections. 

"Yes,"  he  began  again,  settling  himself  in  his  arm- 
chair, and  folding  his  dressing-gown  about  him,  "I  have 
been  through  a  great  deal,  both  of  good  and  bad,  in  my 
life ;  but  He  is  my  witness,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a  fig- 
ure of  the  Saviour,  worked  on  canvas,  which  hung  over 
his  bed,  "nobody  can  say  that  Karl  Ivanitch  has  been 
a  dishonorable  man  !  I  would  not  repay  the  kindness 
which  Herr  L.  had  shown  me,  by  black  ingratitude ; 
and  I  resolved  to  run  away  from  him.  In  the  evening, 
when  all  had  gone  to  bed,  I  wrote  a  letter  to  my  master, 
laid  it  on  the  table  in  my  room,  took  my  clothes  and 
three  thalers  in  money,  and  stepped  quietly  out  into  the 
street.     No  one  saw  me,  and  I  walked  along  the  road." 


CHAPTER   X 

CONTINUATION 

"  I  HAD  not  seen  my  mamma  for  nine  years  ;  and  I 
did  not  know  whether  she  was  alive,  or  whether  her 
bones  were  already  lying  in  the  damp  earth.  I  returned 
to  my  fatherland.  When  I  reached  the  town,  I  inquired 
where  Gustav  Mauer   lived,  who    had  been  farmer  to 


148  BOYHOOD 

Count  Sommerblatt ;  and  they  told  me,  '  Count  Sommer 
blatt  is  dead  ;  and  Gustav  Mauer  lives  in  the  high  street, 
and  keeps  a  liquor-shop.'  I  put  on  my  new  vest,  a  hand- 
some coat  (a  gift  of  the  manufacturer),  brushed  my  hair 
well,  and  went  ■  to  my  papa's  liquor-shop.  My  sister 
Mariechen  was  sitting  in  the  shop,  and  inquired  what 
I  wanted.  I  said,  '  May  I  drink  a  glass  of  liquor  ? '  and 
she  said,  '  Father,  a  young  man  is  asking  for  a  glass  of 
liquor.'  And  papa  said,  'Give  the  young  man  a  glass 
of  liquor.'  I  sat  down  at  the  table,  drank  my  glass  of 
liquor,  smoked  my  pipe,  and  looked  at  papa,  Mariechen, 
and  Johann,  who  had  also  entered  the  shop.  During 
the  conversation,  papa  said  to  me,  '  You  probably  know, 
young  man,  where  our  army  stands  now  ? '  I  said,  '  I 
have  come  from  the  army  myself,  and  it  is  near  Vienna.' 
— '  Our  son,'  said  papa,  *  was  a  soldier,  and  it  is  nine 
years  since  he  has  written  to  us,  and  we  do  not  know 
whether  he  is  alive  or  dead.  My  wife  is  always  weep- 
ing for  him.'  I  smoked  away  at  my  pipe,  and  said, 
'  What  was  your  son's  name,  and  where  did  he  serve  ? 
Perhaps  I  know  him.'  —  'He  was  called  Karl  Mauer, 
and  he  served  in  the  Austrian  Jagers,'  said  papa.  '  He 
was  a  tall,  handsome  man,  like  you,'  said  sister  Marie- 
chen. 

"  *  I  know  your  Karl,'  said  I.  *  Amalia  !  '  cried  my 
father  suddenly,  '  come  here  !  here  is  a  young  man  who 
knows  our  Karl.'  And  my  dear  mamma  comes  through 
the  rear  door.  I  immediately  recognize  her.  '  You  know 
our  Kaidf  she  said,  looked  at  me,  turned  very  pale,  and 
began  to  trouble  I  '  Yes,  I  have  seen  him,'  said  I,  and 
did  not  dare  to  lift  my  eyes  to  her ;  my  heart  wanted  to 
leap.  '  My  Karl  is  alive ! '  said  mamma,  '  thank  God  ! 
Where  is  he,  my  dear  Karl  ?  I  should  die  in  peace  if  I 
could  see  him  once  more,  my  beloved  son  ;  but  it  is  not 
God's  will,'  and  she  began  to  cry.  /  could  not  bear  it. 
'  Mamma,'  said  I,  '  I  am  your  Karl,'  and  she  fell  into  my 
arms." 

Karl  Ivanitch  closed  his  eyes,  and  his  lips  trembled. 

" '  Mother,'  said  I,  '  I  am  your  son,  1  am  your  Karl,* 
and  she  fell  into  my  arms,"  he  repeated,  becoming  some- 


BOYHOOD 


149 


what  calmer,  as   he  wiped   away  the   big  tears  which 
trickled  down  his  cheeks. 

"  But  it  was  not  God's  pleasure  that  I  should  end  my 
days  in  my  own  country.  I  was  destined  to  ill  luck. 
Misfortune  followed  me  everywhere.  I  lived  in  my 
native  land  only  three  months.  One  Sunday  I  was  in 
a  coffee-house  buying  a  jug  of  beer,  smoking  my  pipe, 
and  talking  politics  with  my  acquaintances,  and  about 
the  Emperor  Franz,  about  Napoleon  and  the  war,  and 
each  one  was  expressing  his  opinion.  Near  us  sat  a 
strange  gentleman,  in  a  gray  overcoat,  who  drank  his 
coffee,  smoked  his  pipe,  and  said  nothing  to  us.  When 
the  night  watchman  cried  ten  o'clock,  I  took  my  hat, 
paid  my  reckoning,  and  went  home.  About  midnight 
some  one  knocked  at  the  door.  I  woke  up  and  said, 
'  Who  's  there  ? '  —  '  Open  ! '  —  I  said,  '  Tell  me  who  you 
are,  and  I  will  open.'  —  '  Open  in  the  name  of  the  law  ! ' 
came  the  answer  from  outside  the  door,  and  I  opened. 
Two  soldiers  with  guns  stood  at  the  door  ;  and  the 
strange  man  in  the  gray- overcoat,  who  had  been  sitting 
near  us  in  the  coffee-house,  entered  the  room.  He  was 
a  spy.  '  Come  with  me,'  said  the  spy.  '  Very  good,' 
said  I.  I  put  on  my  boots  and  trousers,  buckled  my 
suspenders,  and  walked  about  the  room.  I  was  raging 
at  heart.  I  said,  *  He  is  a  villain.'  When  I  reached  the 
wall  where  my  sword  hung,  I  suddenly  seized  it,  and 
said,  'Von  are  a  spy:  dcfe^id  yourself !'  I  gave  him  a 
cut  on  the  right,  a  cut  on  the  left,  and  one  on  the  head. 
The  spy  fell !  I  seized  my  portmanteau  and  my  money, 
and  leaped  out  of  the  window.  I  got  to  Ems ;  there  I 
made  the  acquaintance  of  General  Sazin.  He  took  a 
fancy  to  me,  got  a  passport  from  the  ambassador,  and 
took  me  to  Russia  with  him  to  teach  his  children. 
When  General  Sazin  died,  your  mamma  called  me  to 
her.  'Karl  Ivanitch,'  she  said,  'I  give  my  children  into 
your  charge ;  love  them,  and  I  will  never  abandon  you ; 
I  will  make  your  old  age  comfortable.'  Now  she  is 
dead,  and  all  is  forgotten.  After  twenty  years  of  ser- 
vice I  must  now  go  out  into  the  street,  in  my  old  age, 
to  seek  a  crust  of  dry  bread.     God  sees  it  and  knows 


I50 


BOYHOOD 


it,  and  His  holy  ivill  be  done  ;  only  I  am  sorry  for  yon, 
children  / "  said  Karl  Ivanitch  in  conclusion,  drawing 
me  to  him  by  the  hand,  and  kissing  me  on  the  head. 


CHAPTER   XI 

ONE 

By  the  conclusion  of  the  year  of  mourning,  grand- 
mamma had  somewhat  recovered  from  the  grief  which 
had  prostrated  her,  and  began  to  receive  guests  now  and 
then,  especially  children,  boys  and  girls  of  our  own  age. 

On  Liubotchka's  birthday,  the  thirteenth  of  Decem- 
ber, Princess  Kornakoff  and  her  daughters,  Madame 
Valakhin  and  Sonitchka,  Ilinka  Grap,  and  the  two 
younger  Ivin  brothers  arrived  before  dinner. 

The  sounds  of  conversation,  laughter,  and  running 
about  ascended  to  us  from  below,  where  all  this  com- 
pany was  assembled  ;  but  we  could  not  join  them  until 
our  morning  lessons  were  finished.  On  the  calendar 
which  was  suspended  in  the  school-room  was  inscribed 
in  French  :  "  Monday,  from  2  to  3,  teacher  of  history 
and  geography  ; "  and  it  was  that  master  of  history 
whom  we  were  obliged  to  wait  for,  listen  to,  and 
get  rid  of,  before  we  should  be  free.  It  was  twenty 
minutes  past  two,  but  nothing  had  yet  been  heard  of 
the  teacher  of  history  ;  he  was  not  even  to  be  seen  in 
the  street  which  he  must  traverse,  and  which  I  was 
inspecting  with  a  strong  desire  of  never  beholding  him. 

"  Lebedeff  does  not  appear  to  be  coming  to-day," 
said  Volodya,  tearing  himself  for  a  moment  from  Sma- 
ragdoff's  book,  from  which  he  was  preparing  his  lesson. 

"  God  grant  it,  God  grant  it !  for  I  know  nothing  at 
all.  But  he  seems  to  be  coming  yonder,"  I  added,  in  a 
sorrowful  voice. 

Volodya  rose,  and  came  to  the  window. 

"  No,  that  is  not  he  ;  it  is  some  gentleman,'"  said  he. 
"  Let 's  wait  until  half-past  two,"  he  added,  stretching 
himself  and  scratching  his  head,  as  he  was  in  the  habit 


BOYHOOD  151 

of  doing  in  moments  of  respite  from  work  ;  "  if  he  has 
not  come  by  half-past  two,  then  we  can  tell  St.  Jerome 
to  take  away  the  note-books." 

"  I  don't  see  what  he  wants  to  co-o-o-me  for,"  I  said, 
stretching  also,  and  shaking  Kai'danoff's  book,  which  I 
held  in  both  hands,  above  my  head. 

For  lack  of  something  to  do,  I  opened  the  book  at  the 
place  where  our  lesson  was  appointed,  and  began  to 
read.  The  lesson  was  long  and  difficult.  I  knew  noth- 
ing about  it,  and  I  perceived  that  I  should  not  succeed 
in  remembering  anything  about  it,  the  more  so  as  I  was 
in  that  state  of  nervous  excitement  in  which  one's 
thoughts  refuse  to  concentrate  themselves  on  any  sub- 
ject whatever. 

After  the  last  history  lesson,  which  always  seemed  to 
me  the  very  stupidest,  on  the  most  wearisome  of  all  sub- 
ject.s,  Lebedeff  had  complained  to  St.  Jerome  about  me; 
and  two  marks  were  placed  against  me  in  the  books, 
which  was  considered  very  bad.  St.  Jerome  told  me 
then  that,  if  I  got  less  than  three  at  the  next  lesson,  I 
should  be  severely  punished.  Now  this  next  lesson 
was  imminent,  and  I  confess  that  I  felt  very  much  of  a 
coward. 

I  was  so  carried  away  with  the  perusal  of  the  lesson 
which  I  did  not  know,  that  the  sound  of  galoshes  being 
removed  in  the  anteroom  startled  me  all  at  once.  I 
had  hardly  had  time  to  cast  a  glance  in  that  direction, 
when  the  pock-marked  face  which  was  so  antipathetic 
to  me,  and  the  awkward,  far  too  well-known  figure  of 
the  teacher,  in  its  blue  coat  closely  fastened  with  learned 
buttons,  made  their  appearance  in  the  doorway. 

The  teacher  slowly  deposited  his  hat  on  the  window- 
sill,  his  note-books  on  the  table,  pulled  aside  the  tails  of 
his  swallow-tailed  coat  (as  though  it  were  very  impor- 
tant), and  seated  himself,  panting,  in  his  place. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  rubbing  one  perspiring 
hand  over  the  other,  "  let  us  first  review  what  was  said 
at  the  last  lesson,  and  then  I  will  endeavor  to  acquaint 
you  with  succeeding  events  of  the  Middle  Ages." 

That  meant :  Say  your  lesson. 


152  BOYHOOD 

At  the  moment  when  Volodya  was  answering  him 
with  the  freedom  and  confidence  peculiar  to  a  person 
who  is  thoroughly  acquainted  with  his  subject,  I  went 
out  on  the  stairs,  without  any  object  whatever;  and, 
since  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  go  down,  it  was  very 
natural  that  I  should  find  myself,  quite  unexpectedly  to 
myself,  on  the  landing.  But  just  as  I  was  about  to  in- 
stall myself  in  my  customary  post  of  observation,  be- 
hind a  door,  Mimi,  who  had  always  been  the  cause  of 
my  misfortunes,  suddenly  ran  against  me.  "You  here.''" 
said  she,  looking  threateningly  at  me,  then  at  the  door 
of  the  maids'  room,  and  then  at  me  again. 

I  felt  thoroughly  guilty,  both  because  I  was  not  in 
the  school-room,  and  because  I  was  in  a  place  where  I 
had  no  business  to  be.  So  I  held  my  tongue,  and, 
hanging  my  head,  exhibited  in  my  person  the  most 
touching  expression  of  penitence.  "  Well,  who  ever 
saw  the  like!"  said  Mimi.  "What  have  you  been  do- 
ing here.''"  I  remained  silent.  "No,  things  shall  not 
be  left  in  this  state,"  she  repeated,  rapping  her  knuckles 
against  the  stair-railings  ;  "  I  shall  tell  the  countess  all 
about  it." 

It  was  already  five  minutes  to  three  when  I  returned 
to  the  school-room.  The  teacher  was  explaining  the 
following  lesson  to  Volodya,  as  though  he  had  remarked 
neither  my  absence  nor  my  presence.  When  he  had 
finished  his  exposition,  he  began  to  put  his  note-books 
together,  and  Volodya  went  into  the  other  room  to  fetch 
the  lesson-ticket ;  and  the  cheering  thought  occurred  to 
me  that  all  was  over,  and  that  I  had  been  forgotten. 

But  all  at  once  the  teacher  turned  to  me  with  a  mali- 
cious half-smile. 

"  I  hope  you  have  learned  your  lesson,  sir,"  he  said, 
rubbing  his  hands. 

"  I  have  learned  it,  sir,"  I  answered. 

"  Be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  something  about  St. 
Louis's  crusade,"  said  he,  shifting  about  in  his  chair, 
and  gazing  thoughtfully  at  his  feet.  "  You  may  tell  me 
first  the  causes  which  induced  the  French  king  to  take 
the  cross,"  said  he,  raising  his  brows,  and  pointing  his 


BOYHOOD  153 

finger  at  the  ink-bottle.  "Then  you  may  explain  to  me 
the  general  and  characteristic  traits  of  that  expedition," 
he  added,  making  a  movement  with  his  wrist,  as  though 
endeavoring  to  catch  something.  "And,  finally,  the 
influence  of  this  crusade  upon  European  sovereignties 
in  general,"  said  he,  striking  the  left  side  of  the  table 
with  his  note-books.  "  And  upon  the  French  monarchy 
in  particular,"  he  concluded,  striking  the  right  side  of 
the  table,  and  inclining  his  head  to  the  right. 

I  gulped  down  my  spittle  a  few  times,  coughed,  bent 
my  head  on  one  side,  and  remained  silent.  Then,  seiz- 
ing a  pen,  which  lay  upon  the  table,  I  began  to  pluck  it 
to  pieces,  still  maintaining  my  silence. 

"Permit  me  to  take  that  pen,"  said  the  teacher,  ex- 
tending his  hand ;  "  it  is  good  for  something.  Now, 
sir !  " 

"  Lou ....  King  ....  St.  Louis  ....  was  ....  was  ....  was  ....  a 
good  and  wise  emperor." 

"Who,  sir.?" 

"An  emperor.  He  conceived  the  idea  of  going  to 
Jerusalem,  and  ti-ansferred  the  reins  of  government  to 
his  mother." 

"  What  was  her  name  } " 

"B....  B....  lanka." 

"What,  sir.?    Bulanka.?"i 

I  laughed  rather  awkwardly,  and  with  constraint. 

"  Well,  sir,  do  you  know  anything  else } "  he  said 
sarcastically. 

There  was  nothing  for  me  to  lose,  so  I  coughed,  and 
began  to  utter  whatever  nonsense  came  into  my  head. 
The  teacher,  who  sat  silently  flicking  the  dust  from  the 
table,  with  the  quill  pen  which  he  had  taken  away  from 
me,  gazed  straight  past  my  ear,  and  repeated,  "  Good, 
very  good,  sir."  I  was  conscious  that  I  knew  nothing, 
that  I  was  not  expressing  myself  at  all  as  I  should  ;  and 
it  pained  me  frightfully  to  see  that  the  teacher  did  not 
stop  me,  or  correct  me. 

"  Why  did  he  conceive  the  idea  of  going  to  Jerusa- 
lem .? "  said  he,  repeating  my  words. 

1  Name  for  a  cream-colored  horse.  —  Tr, 


''54 


BOYHOOD 


"  Because  ....  for  the  reason  ....  for  the  purpose,  be- 
cause ....  "  I  stopped  short,  uttered  not  another  word, 
and  felt  that  if  that  villainous  teacher  were  to  hold  his 
tongue  for  a  whole  year,  and  gaze  inquiringly  at  me,  I 
should  not  be  in  a  condition  to  emit  another  sound. 
The  teacher  stared  at  me  for  three  minutes ;  then  an 
expression  of  deep  sorrow  appeared  on  his  face,  and  he 
said  to  Volodya,  who  had  just  entered  the  room,  in  a 
feeling  tone :  — 

"Please  hand  me  the  record-book." 

Volodya  gave  him  the  book,  and  carefully  laid  the 
ticket  beside  it. 

The  teacher  opened  the  book,  and,  cautiously  dipping 
his  pen,  he  put  down  five,  in  his  beautiful  hand,  for 
Volodya,  under  the  head  of  recitations  and  behavior. 
Then  he  stopped  his  pen  over  the  column  in  which  my 
delinquencies  were  inscribed,  looked  at  me,  flirted  off 
the  ink,  and  pondered. 

All  at  once  his  hand  made  an  almost  imperceptible 
movement,  and  there  appeared  a  handsomely  shaped 
one  and  a  period  ;  another  movement,  and  in  the  con- 
duct column  stood  another  one  and  a  dot. 

Carefully  closing  the  record-book,  the  teacher  rose  and 
went  to  the  door,  as  though  he  did  not  perceive  my 
glance,  in  which  despair,  entreaty,  and  reproach  were 
expressed. 

"  Mikhail  Ilarionovitch,"  said  I. 

"  No,"  said  he,  understanding  at  once  what  I  wanted 
to  say  to  him  ;  "  it 's  impossible  to  teach  in  that  way.  I 
won't  receive  money  for  nothing." 

The  teacher  put  on  his  galoshes  and  his  camelot 
cloak,  and  knotted  his  scarf  with  great  care.  As  if  any 
one  could  care  for  anything  after  what  had  happened  to 
me !  A  movement  of  the  pen  for  him,  but  the  greatest 
misfortune  for  me.- 

"  Is  the  lesson  ended  ? "  inquired  St.  Jerome,  enter- 
ing the  room. 

"Yes." 

"  Was  your  teacher  satisfied  with  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Volodya. 


BOYHOOD  i£5 

"  How  many  did  you  get  ?  " 

"Five." 

"  And  Nicholas  ? " 

I  said  nothing. 

"  Four,  apparently,"  said  Volodya. 

He  knew  that  it  was  necessary  to  save  me,  if  only  fol 
that  day.  If  I  were  to  be  punished,  let  it  not  be  to-day, 
when  there  were  guests  in  the  house. 

"  Let  us  see,  gentlemen,"  —  St.  Jerome  had  a  way  of 
saying  "let  us  see"  {yoyons)  at  every  other  word, — 
"make  your  toilets,  and  we  will  go  down-stairs." 


CHAPTER    Xn 

THE    LITTLE    KEY 

We  had  hardly  got  down-stairs  and  exchanged  salu- 
tations with  all  the  guests,  when  we  were  summoned  to 
the  table.  Papa  was  very  gay  (he  was  winning  money 
just  then),  presented  Liubotchka  with  a  handsome  silver 
service,  and,  after  dinner,  remembered  that  he  had  also 
a  bonbon  box  in  his  wing  for  the  birthday  girl. 

"There's  no  use  in  sending  a  man;  better  go  your- 
self, Koko,"  he  said  to  me.  "The  keys  are  lying  on 
the  large  table,  in  the  shell,  you  know.  Take  them 
and  with  the  very  largest  key  open  the  second  drawer 
on  the  right.  There  you  will  find  the  box  and  some  bon- 
bons in  a  paper;  and  you  are  to  bring  them  all  here." 

"  And  shall  I  bring  you  some  cigars  }  "  I  asked,  know- 
ing that  he  always  sent  for  them  after  dinner, 

"  Bring  them,  but  see  that  you  don't  touch  anything 
in  my  rooms,"  he  called  after  me. 

I  found  the  keys  in  the  place  designated,  and  was 
about  to  open  the  drawer,  when  I  was  stopped  by  a 
desire  to  know  what  a  very  small  key,  which  hung  on 
the  same  bunch,  opened. 

On  the  table,  amid  a  thousand  varied  objects,  and 
near  the  railing,  lay  an  embroidered  portfolio,  with 
a  padlock ;  and  I  took  a  fancy  to  try  whether  the  little 


156  BOYHOOD 

key  would  fit  it.  My  experiment  was  crowned  with 
complete  success  ;  the  portfolio  opened,  and  in  it  I  found 
a  whole  heap  of  papers.  A  feeling  of  curiosity  coun- 
seled me  with  such  conviction  to  find  out  what  those 
papers  were,  that  I  did  not  succeed  in  hearkening  to  the 
voice  of  conscience,  and  set  to  work  to  examine  what 
was  in  the  portfolio. 


The  childish  sentiment  of  unquestioning  respect 
toward  all  my  elders,  and  especially  toward  papa, 
was  so  strong  within  me,  that  my  mind  involuntarily 
refused  to  draw  any  conclusions  whatever  from  what 
I  saw.  I  felt  that  papa  must  live  in  a  totally  different 
sphere,  which  was  very  beautiful,  unattainable,  and 
incomprehensible  to  me,  and  that  to  attempt  to  pene- 
trate the  secrets  of  his  life  would  be  something  in  the 
nature  of  sacrilege  on  my  part. 

Therefore  the  discovery  which  I  had  almost  uncon- 
sciously made  in  papa's  portfolio  left  in  me  no  clear 
conception,  except  a  dim  knowledge  that  I  had  behaved 
badly.     I  was  ashamed  and  uncomfortable. 

Under  the  influence  of  this  feeling,  I  desired  to  close 
the  portfolio  as  speedily  as  possible,  but  I  was  evidently 
fated  to  endure  every  possible  kind  of  misfortune  upon 
that  memorable  day.  Placing  the  key  in  the  keyhole 
of  the  padlock,  I  turned  it  the  other  way  ;  supposing 
that  the  lock  was  closed,  I  pulled  out  the  key,  and  — 
oh,  horror!  the  head  of  the  key  only  remained  in  my 
hand.  In  vain  did  I  endeavor  to  unite  it  with  the  half 
in  the  lock,  and  release  it  by  means  of  some  magic. 
I  was  forced  at  length  to  accustom  myself  to  the  fright- 
ful thought  that  I  had  committed  a  fresh  crime,  which 
must  be  discovered  this  very  day,  when  papa  returned 
to  his  study. 

Mimi's  complaint,  the  one  mark,  and  that  little  key  ! 
Nothing  worse  could  have  happened.  Grandmamma  on 
account  of  Mimi's  complaint,  St.  Jerome  about  the  one 
mark,  papa  about  that  key  :  and  all  these  would  over- 
whelm me,  and  not  later  than  that  very  evening. 


BOYHOOD  157 

"  What  will  become  of  me  ?  Oh,  what  have  I  done  ? " 
I  said  aloud,  as  I  paced  the  soft  carpet  of  the  study. 
"  Eh,"  I  said  to  myself,  as  I  got  the  bonbons  and  cigars, 
^^  ivJiat  will  be,  zvi/l  be,"  and  I  ran  into  the  house. 

This  fatalistic  adage,  which  I  had  heard  from  Nikolai 
in  my  childhood,  produced  a  beneficial  and  temporarily 
soothing  effect  upon  me  at  all  difficult  crises  in  my  life. 
When  I  entered  the  hall,  I  was  in  a  somewhat  excited 
and  unnatural  but  extremely  merry  mood. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE    TRAITRESS 

After  dinner,  games  began,  and  I  took  the  most 
lively  interest  in  them.  While  playing  at  cat  and  mouse^ 
I  awkwardly  ran  against  the  Kornakoff's  governess,  who 
was  playing  with  us,  stepped  on  her  dress  unintentionally, 
and  tore  it.  Perceiving  that  it  afforded  all  the  girls,  and 
Sonitchka  in  particular,  great  satisfaction  to  see  the  gov- 
erness retire  with  a  perturbed  countenance  to  the  maids' 
room,  to  mend  her  dress,  I  resolved  to  procure  them  that 
pleasure  once  more.  In  consequence  of  this  amiable 
intention,  the  governess  had  no  sooner  returned  to  the 
room,  than  I  began  to  gallop  round  her,  and  I  kept  up 
this  evolution  until  I  found  a  favorable  opportunity  to 
catch  my  heel  once  more  in  her  skirt,  and  tear  it.  So- 
nitchka and  the  princesses  could  hardly  restrain  their 
laughter,  which  flattered  my  vanity  very  agreeably  ;  but 
St.  Jerome,  who  must  have  been  observing  my  pranks, 
came  up  to  me  and  said  with  a  frown  (which  I  could  not 
endure)  that  I  evidently  was  not  merry  in  a  good  way, 
and  that  if  I  were  not  more  discreet  he  would  make  me 
repent  of  it,  even  though  it  was  a  festive  day. 

But  I  was  in  the  state  of  excitement  of  a  man  who 
has  gambled  away  more  than  he  has  in  his  pocket,  and 
who  fears  to  reckon  up  his  accounts,  and  continues  to 

^  Puss  in  the  corner. 


158  BOYHOOD 

bet  on  desperate  cards  without  any  hope  of  redeeming 
himself,  and  only  for  the  purpose  of  not  giving  himself 
time  to  think.  I  smiled  impudently,  and  walked  away 
from  him. 

After  the  game  of  "cat  and  mouse,"  some  one  started 
a  game  which  we  called  lojig  nose.  The  play  consisted 
in  placing  two  rows  of  chairs  opposite  each  other ;  then 
the  ladies  and  gentlemen  divided  into  two  parties,  each 
choosing  another  in  turn. 

The  youngest  princess  chose  the  smallest  Ivin  every 
time;  Katenka  chose  either  Volodya  or  Ilinka ;  So- 
nitchka  took  Serozha  every  time,  and  was  not  at  all 
abashed,  to  my  extreme  amazement,  when  Serozha  went 
and  seated  himself  directly  opposite  her.  She  laughed 
with  her  pretty,  ringing  laugh,  and  made  him  a  sign  with 
her  head,  to  show  that  he  had  guessed  aright.  I  com- 
prehended, to  the  great  injury  of  my  vanity,  that  I  was 
superfluous,  left  out ;  that  they  must  say  of  me  every 
time,  "Who  remams  yet?  Why,  Nikolcnka ;  well,  then, 
do  you  take  him^ 

When,  therefore,  it  came  my  turn  to  step  forward,  I 
went  boldly  up  either  to  my  sister  or  to  one  of  the  ugly 
princesses, -and,  unfortunately,  never  made  a  mistake. 
And  Sonitchka  seemed  so  absorbed  in  Serozha  Ivin, 
that  I  did  not  exist  for  her.  I  do  not  know  on  what 
grounds  I  mentally  called  her  a  traitress,  since  she  had 
never  given  me  a  promise  to  choose  me  and  not  Serozha ; 
but  I  was  firmly  convinced  that  she  had  behaved  to  me 
in  the  most  revolting  manner. 

After  the  game  I  noticed  that  the  traitress,  whom  I 
despised,  but  from  whom,  nevertheless,  I  could  not  take 
my  eyes,  had  retired  into  a  corner  with  Serozha  and 
Katenka,  where  they  were  discussing  something  in  a 
mysterious  manner.  Creeping  up  behind  the  piano,  in 
order  to  discover  their  secret,  I  saw  this  :  Katenka  was 
holding  a  cambric  handkerchief  by  two  of  its  corners, 
thus  forming  a  screen  between  Sonitchka's  head  and 
Serozha's.  "  No,  you  have  lost  ;  now  you  shall  pay  !  " 
said  Serozha.  Sonitchka  stood  before  him,  with  her 
arms  hanging  beside  her,  as  if  guilty,  and  said,  blushing, 


BOYHOOD  159 

"No,  I  have  not  lost;  have  I,  Mile.  Catherine?"  —  "! 
love  the  truth,"  repHed  Katenka;  "you  have  lost  your 
bet,  my  dear." 

Katenka  had  hardly  uttered  these  words,  when  Serozha 
bent  over,  and  kissed  Sonitchka.  He  kissed  her  full 
upon  her  rosy  lips.  And  Sonitchka  laughed,  as  though 
that  were  nothing,  as  though  it  were  very  amusing. 
Horrible  /  /  /     Oh,  the  sly  traitress  / 

CHAPTER   XIV 

THE    ECLIPSE 

I  SUDDENLY  felt  a  contempt  for  the  entire  female  sex 
in  general,  and  for  Sonitchka  in  particular ;  I  began  to 
assure  myself  that  there  was  nothing  jolly  about  these 
games,  that  they  were  only  fit  for  little  girls ;  and  I  felt 
very  much  inclined  to  create  an  uproar,  to  do  some 
manly  deed,  which  would  astonish  them  all.  An  occa- 
sion was  not  long  in  presenting  itself. 

St.  Jerome,  after  talking  of  something  with  Mimi,  left 
the  room  ;  at  first,  his  footsteps  were  audible  on  the 
stairs,  and  then  above  us,  in  the  direction  of  the  school- 
room. The  thought  occurred  to  me  that  Mimi  had  told 
him  where  she  had  seen  me  during  lesson  hours,  and 
that  he  had  gone  to  inspect  the  journal.  At  that  time, 
I  did  not  attribute  to  St.  Jerome  any  other  object  in 
life  thaii  a  desire  to  punish  me.  I  I  have  read  somewhere 
that  children  from  twelve  to  fourteen  years  of  age,  that 
is  to  say,  those  who  are  in  the  transition  stage  of  boy- 
hood, are  particularly  inclined  to  arson  and  even  to 
murder.  In  recalling  my  boyhood,  and  especially  the 
frame  of  mind  in  which  I  was  on  that  unlucky  day,  I 
very  clearly  appreciate  the  importance  of  the  most  fright- 
ful crime,  committed  without  object  or  intent  to  injure, 
but  from  curiosity,  to  meet  an  unconscious  need  for 
activity.  There  are  moments  when  the  future  presents 
itself  to  a  man  in  such  somber  colors,  that  he  dreads 
to  fix  his  mental  gaze  upon  it,  entirely  represses  the 
action  of  his  mind,  and  endeavors  to  convince  himself 


i6o  BOYHOOD 

that  the  future  will  not  be,  and  that  the  past  has  not 
been.  At  such  moments,  when  thought  does  not  sit  in 
judgment  before  every  decision  of  the  will,  and  the 
fleshly  instincts  remain  the  sole  springs  of  life,  I  can 
understand  how  a  child  is  especially  inclined,  by  reason 
of  his  inexperience,  to  set  and  light  a  fire  under  the  very 
house  in  which  his  brothers,  his  father,  and  his  mother, 
whom  he  tenderly  loves,  are  sleeping,  without  the  slight- 
est hesitation  or  fear,  and  with  a  smile  of  curiosity. 
Under  the  influence  of  this  temporary  absence  of  reflec- 
tion, approaching  aberration  of  mind,  a  peasant  lad  of 
seventeen,  contemplating  the  freshly  sharpened  edge  of 
an  ax,  beside  the  bench  on  which  sleeps  his  aged  father, 
face  downward,  suddenly  flourishes  the  ax,  and  gazes 
with  stupid  curiosity  at  the  blood,  as  it  drips  from  the 
severed  neck  on  the  bench.  Under  the  influence  of  the 
same  absence  of  reflection,  and  instinctive  curiosity,  a 
man  experiences  a  certain  enjoyment  in  pausing  upon 
the  brink  of  a  precipice,  and  thinking,  "What  if  I  should 
throw  myself  down  there  ?  "  Or,  placing  a  loaded  pistol 
to  his  forehead,  he  thinks,  "  What  if  I  pull  the  trigger  ?  " 
Or,  he  gazes  upon  some  person  for  whom  society  uni- 
versally cherishes  a  peculiar  respect,  and  thinks,  "  What 
if  I  were  to  go  up  to  him,  take  him  by  the  nose,  and 
say,  '  Come,  my  dear  fellow,  shall  we  go  ? '  "         '  ' 

Under  the  influence  of  this  internal  excitement,  and 
absence  of  reflection,  when  St.  Jerome  came  down-stairs, 
and  told  me  that  I  had  no  right  to  be  there  that  evening, 
because  I  had  behaved  badly  and  studied  badly,  and  that 
I  was  to  go  up-stairs  at  once,  I  stuck  out  my  tongue  at 
him,  and  said  that  I  would  not  leave  that  spot. 

For  a  moment,  St.  Jerome  could  not  utter  a  word  for 
surprise  and  anger. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  following  me;  "several  times 
already,  I  have  promised  to  punish  you  and  your  grand- 
mamma has  wanted  to  beg  you  off ;  but  now  I  see  that 
nothing  but  the  rod  will  make  you  mind,  and  you  have 
fully  deserved  it  to-day." 

He  said  this  so  loudly  that  every  one  heard  his  words. 
The  blood  retreated  to  my  heart  with  unusual  force.     I 


BOYHOOD  161 

felt  that  it  was  beating  violently,  that  the  color  fled  from 
my  face,  and  that  my  lips  trembled  quite  involuntarily. 
I  must  have  looked  terrible  at  that  moment,  for  St. 
Jerome,  avoiding  my  glance,  walked  quickly  up  to  me 
and  seized  me  by  the  hand ;  but  I  no  sooner  felt  the 
touch  of  his  hand,  than  I  became  giddy,  and,  beside  my- 
self with  rage,  I  tore  my  hand  away,  and  struck  him  with 
all  my  childish  strength. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ? "  said  Volodya,  who 
had  seen  my  act  with  horror  and  amazement,  as  he 
approached  me. 

"  Let  me  alone  !  "  I  shrieked  at  him  through  my  tears  ; 
"not  one  of  you  loves  me,  nor  understands  how  unhappy • 
I  am.  You  are  all  hateful,  disgusting,"  I  added,  turning 
to  the  whole  company  in  a  sort  of  fury. 

But  this  time  St.  Jerome  came  up  to  me  with  a  pale, 
determined  face,  and  before  I  had  time  to  prepare  for 
defense,  he  grasped  both  my  hands  as  in  a  vise,  with  a 
powerful  movement,  and  dragged  me  away.  My  head 
was  whirling  with  excitement.  I  only  remember  that  I 
fought  desperately  with  head  and  knees  as  long  as  I  had 
any  strength  left.  I  remember  that  my  nose  came  in 
contact  several  times  with  some  one's  hips,  and  that 
some  one's  coat  fell  into  my  mouth,  that  I  was  conscious 
of  the  presence  of  some  one's  feet  all  around  me,  and  of 
the  smell  of  dust,  and  of  the  violet  with  which  St.  Jerome 
perfumed  himself. 

Five  minutes  later,  the  garret  door  closed  behind  me. 

"  Basil !  "  said  he,  in  a  revolting,  triumphant  voice, 
"  bring  the  rods." 

j|t  «  *  JK  j|&  Jti 


CHAPTER    XV 

FANCIES 

Could  I  at  that  time  suppose  that  I  should  remain 
alive  after  all  the  misfortunes  which  came  upon  me,  and 
that  the  day  would  come  when  I  should  recall  them  with 
composure  ? 


i62  BOYHOOD 

When  I  remembered  what  I  had  done,  I  could  not 
imagine  what  would  become  of  me,  but  I  dimly  compre- 
hended that  I  was  irretrievably  ruined. 

At  first,  absolute  silence  reigned  below  and  around 
me,  or  so  it  seemed  to  me  at  least,  because  of  my  exces- 
sively powerful  inward  agitation  ;  but  gradually  I  began 
to  distinguish  the  different  sounds.  Vasily  came  down- 
stairs, and,  flinging  something  which  resembled  a  broom 
on  the  window-ledge,  lay  down  on  the  chest  with  a 
yawn.  Below,  August  Antonitch's  huge  voice  was 
audible  (he  must  have  been  speaking  of  me),  then  child- 
ish voices,  then  laughter  and  running;  and  then  a  few 
minutes  later  everything  in  the  house  had  again  relapsed 
into  its  former  movement,  as  though  no  one  knew  or 
thought  of  me  sitting  in  the  dark  garret. 

I  did  not  cry,  but  something  as  heavy  as  a  stone  lay 
upon  my  heart.  Thoughts  and  visions  passed  with  re- 
doubled swiftness  before  my  disturbed  imagination  ;  but 
the  memory  of  the  misfortune  which  had  overtaken  me 
incessantly  broke  their  wondrous  chain,  and  I  again 
traversed  an  endless  labyrinth  of  uncertainty  as  to  the 
fate  which  awaited  me,  of  terror  and  despair. 

Then  it  occurs  to  me  that  there  must  exist  some  cause 
for  the  general  dislike  and  even  hatred  of  me.  (At  that 
time  I  was  firmly  convinced  that  everybody,  beginning 
with  grandmamma  and  down  to  Philip  the  coachman, 
hated  me,  and  found  pleasure  in  my  sufferings.) 

"  It  must  be  that  I  am  not  the  son  of  my  father  and 
mother,  not  Volodya's  brother,  but  an  unhappy  orphan, 
a  foundling,  adopted  out  of  charity,"  I  say  to  myself ; 
and  this  absurd  idea  not  only  affords  me  a  certain 
melancholy  comfort,  but  even  appears  extremely  prob- 
able. It  pleases  me  to  think  that  I  am  unhappy  not 
because  I  am  myself  to  blame,  but  because  such  has 
been  my  fate  since  my  very  birth,  and  that  my  lot  is 
similar  to  that  of  the  unfortunate  Karl  Ivanitch, 

"  But  why  conceal  this  secret  any  longer,  when  I  have 
myself  succeeded  in  penetrating  it  ? "  I  say  to  myself. 
"  To-morrow  I  will  go  to  papa,  and  say  to  him,  '  Papa, 
in  vain  do  you  conceal  from  me  the  secret  of  my  birth ; 


BOYHOOD  163 

I  know  it.'  He  will  say,  'What  is  to  be  done,  my 
friend  ?  Sooner  or  later  you  would  have  learned  it. 
You  are  not  my  son  ;  but  I  have  adopted  you,  and  if 
you  will  prove  worthy  of  my  love,  I  will  never  desert 
you.'  And  I  shall  say  to  him,  *  Papa,  although  I  have 
no  right  to  call  you  by  that  name,  I  now  utter  it  for  the 
last  time.  I  have  always  loved  you,  and  I  shall  always 
love  you,  and  I  shall  never  forget  that  you  are  my  bene- 
factor ;  but  I  can  no  longer  remain  in  your  house.  No 
one  here  loves  me,  and  St.  Jerome  has  sworn  my  ruin. 
Either  he  or  I  must  leave  your  house,  because  I  cannot 
answer  for  myself.  I  hate  that  man  to  such  a  degree 
that  I  am  prepared  for  anything.  I  would  kill  him  as- 
readily  as  I  say:  Papa,  I  will  kill  him.'  Papa  will  begin 
to  beseech  me  ;  but  I  shall  wave  my  hand,  and  say,  '  No, 
my  friend,  my  benefactor,  we  cannot  live  together ;  but 
release  me.'  And  then  I  will  embrace  him,  and  say  in 
French,  for  some  reason  or  other,  '  O  my  father !  O 
my  benefactor !  give  me  thy  blessing  for  the  last  time, 
and  may  God's  will  be  done.'"  And  as  I  sit  on  the 
chest  in  the  dark  store-room,  I  weep  and  cry  at  the 
thought.  But  all  at  once  I  remember  the  shameful 
punishment  which  is  awaiting  me ;  reality  presents 
itself  to  me  in  its  true  light,  and  my  fancies  momen- 
tarily take  flight. 

Then  I  fancy  myself  already  at  liberty,  outside  our 
house.  I  enter  the  hussars,  and  go  to  the  war.  Ene- 
mies bear  down  upon  me  from  all  sides  ;  I  wave  my 
sword,  and  kill  one  ;  a  second  wave,  I  slay  another,  and 
a  third.  Finally,  exhausted  by  wounds  and  fatigue,  I 
fall  to  the  earth,  and  shout,  "  Victory  !  "  The  general 
approaches,  and  asks,  "  Where  is  he,  our  savior  .■' "  They 
point  me  out  to  him  ;  he  flings  himself  on  my  neck,  and 
shouts,  with  tears  of  joy,  "Victory!"  I  recover,  and 
with  an  arm  bandaged  in  a  black  handkerchief  I  prome- 
nade the  Tverskoy  boulevard.  I  am  a  general  !  But  lo, 
the  Emperor  meets  me,  and  inquires,  "  Who  is  this 
wounded  young  man  .-* "  He  is  told  that  it  is  the  re- 
nowned hero  Nikolai'.  The  Emperor  comes  up  to  me 
and  says,  "  I  thank  you.     I  will  do  anything  you  ask  of 


164  BOYHOOD 

me."  I  salute  respectfully,  and  leaning  on  my  sword  I 
say,  "  I  am  happy,  great  Emperor,  to  have  been  able  to 
shed  my  blood  for  my  fatherland,  and  I  wish  to  die  for 
it ;  but  if  you  will  be  so  gracious,  then  permit  me  to 
beg  one  thing  of  you,  —  permit  me  to  annihilate  my 
enemy,  the  foreigner,  St.  Jerome.  I  want  to  annihilate 
my  enemy,  St.  Jerome."  I  halt  threateningly  before 
St.  Jerome,  and  say  to  him,  "  You  have  caused  my  mis- 
fortune. On  your  knees  !  "  But  suddenly  the  thought 
occurs  to  me  that  the  real  St.  Jerome  may  enter  at  any 
moment  with  the  rods  ;  and  again  I  see  myself,  not  a 
general  serving  his  country,  but  a  very  pitiful,  weeping 
creature.  . 

The  thought  of  God  comes  to  me,  and  I  ask  Him 
impudently  why  He  is  punishing  me.  "  I  have  not  for- 
gotten my  prayers  morning  and  evening,  it  strikes  me ; 
then  why  do  I  suffer  .-' "  I  can  assert  conclusively  that 
the  first  step  toward  the  religious  doubts  which  troubled 
me  during  my  boyhood  was  taken  then,  not  because 
unhappiness  excited  my  murmuring  and  unbelief,  but 
because  the  thought  of  the  injustice  of  Providence, 
which  entered  my  mind  in  that  time  of  spiritual  dis- 
order and  solitude  of  twenty-four  hours'  duration,  began 
speedily  to  grow  and  to  send  forth  roots,  like  a  perni- 
cious seed  which  has  fallen  upon  the  soft  earth  after  a 
rain.  Then  I  imagined  that  I  should  certainly  die,  and 
represented  vividly  to  myself  St.  Jerome's  amazement 
when  he  should  find  a  lifeless  body  in  the  garret,  instead 
of  me.  Recalling  Natalya  Savischna's  tales  of  how  the 
soul  of  a  dead  person  does  not  quit  the  house  for  forty 
days,  I  penetrate,  in  thought,  unseen,  all  the  rooms  of 
grandmamma's  house,  and  listen  to  Liubotchka's  sincere 
tears,  to  grandmamma's  grief,  and  papa's  conversation 
with  August  Antonitch.  "  He  was  a  fine  boy,"  says 
papa,  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  "  Yes,"  says  St.  Jerome, 
"  but  a  great  scamp."  —  "  You  should  respect  the  dead," 
says  papa.  "You  were  the  cause  of  his  death;  you 
frightened  him  ;  he  could  not  endure  the  humiliation 
which  you  were  preparing  for  him.  Away  from  here, 
you  villain !  " 


BOYHOOD  165 

And  St.  Jerome  falls  on  his  knees,  and  weeps,  and 
sues  for  pardon.  At  the  end  of  the  forty  days,  my  soul 
flies  to  heaven  ;  there  I  behold  something  wonderfully 
beautiful,  white,  transparent,  and  long,  and  I  feel  that 
it  is  my  mother.  This  white  something  surrounds  me, 
caresses  me  ;  but  I  feel  an  uneasiness,  as  though  I  did 
not  know  her.  "  If  it  really  is  you,"  I  say,  "then  show 
yourself  to  me  more  distinctly,  that  I  may  embrace 
you."  And  her  voice  answers  me,  "  We  are  all  so, 
here.  I  cannot  embrace  you  any  better.  Do  you  not 
think  it  well  thus  ? "  —  "  Yes,  I  think  it  is  very  well ;  but 
you  cannot  tickle  me,  and  I  cannot  kiss  your  hands." 
—  "  That  is  not  necessary  ;  it  is  so  very  beautiful  here," 
she  says,  and  I  feel  that  it  really  is  very  beautiful,  and 
we  soar  away  together,  higher  and  ever  higher.  Then 
I  suddenly  seem  to  wake,  and  find  myself  again  on  the 
chest  in  the  dark  garret,  my  cheeks  wet  with  tears, 
without  a  single  thought,  repeating  the  words,  "  And  zve 
soar  higJier  and  ever  higher y  For  a  long  time,  I  exert 
all  my  power  to  explain  my  situation  ;  but  only  one 
fearfully  gloomy,  impenetrable  perspective  offers  itself 
to  my  mental  gaze  at  the  present  moment.  I  endeavor 
to  return  once  more  to  those  cheering,  blissful  dreams, 
which  destroyed  consciousness  of  reality ;  but  to  my 
amazement,  no  sooner  do  I  enter  upon  the  traces  of  my 
former  reveries,  than  I  see  that  a  prolongation  of  them 
is  impossible,  and,  what  is  still  more  surprising,  that  it 
no  longer  affords  me  any  pleasure. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

GRIND  LONG  ENOUGH,  AND  THE  MEAL  WILL  COME 

I  SPENT  the  night  in  the  garret,  and  no  one  came  near 
me  ;  it  was  only  on  the  following  day,  that  is  to  say,  on 
Sunday,  that  I  was  taken  to  a  little  room  adjoining  the 
school-room,  and  again  locked  up.  I  began  to  hope  that 
my  punishment  would  be  confined  to  imprisonment ;  and 
my  thoughts,  under  the  influence  of  sweet,  refreshing 


i66  BOYHOOD 

slumber,  of  the  bright  sunlight  playing  upon  the  frost- 
patterns  on  the  windows,  and  the  customary  noises 
of  the  day  in  the  streets,  began  to  grow  composed. 
Nevertheless,  my  solitude  was  very  oppressive ;  I  wanted 
to  move  about,  to  tell  somebody  all  that  was  seething 
in  my  soul,  and  there  was  not  a  living  being  near  me. 
This  position  of  affairs  was  all  the  more  disagreeable, 
because,  however  repulsive  it  was  to  me,  I  could  not 
avoid  hearing  St.  Jerome  whistling  various  gay  airs  with 
perfect  tranquillity,  as  he  walked  about  his  room.  I  was 
fully  persuaded  that  he  did  not  want  to  whistle  at  all, 
but  that  he  did  it  solely  for  the  sake  of  tormenting  me. 

At  two  o'clock,  St.  Jerome  and  Volodya  went  down- 
stairs ;  but  Nikolai'  brought  my  dinner,  and  when  I 
spoke  to  him  about  what  I  had  done,  and  what  awaited 
me,  he  said  :  — 

"  Eh,  sir !  don't  grieve ;  grind  long  enough,  and  the 
meal  will  come."  ^ 

This  adage,  which,  later  on,  more  than  once  sustained 
my  firmness  of  spirit,  comforted  me  somewhat ;  but  the 
very  fact  that  they  had  not  sent  me  bread  and  water 
alone,  but  a  complete  dinner,  including  rose  cakes,  caused 
me  to  meditate  profoundly.  If  they  had  not  sent  me 
the  rose  cakes,  then  it  would  have  signified  that  I  was 
to  be  punished  by  imprisonment ;  but  now  it  turned  out 
that  I  had  not  been  punished  yet,  that  I  was  only  iso- 
lated from  others  as  a  pernicious  person,  and  that 
chastisement  was  still  before  me.  While  I  was  busy 
with  the  solution  of  this  question,  the  key  turned  in 
the  lock  of  my  prison,  and  St.  Jerome  entered  the  room, 
with  a  stern,  official  countenance. 

"  Come  to  your  grandmother,"  he  said,  without  look- 
ing at  me. 

I  wanted  to  clean  the  cuffs  of  my  jacket,  which  were 
smeared  with  chalk,  before  leaving  the  room  ;  but  St, 
Jerome  told  me  that  this  was  quite  unnecessary,  as 
though  I  was  already  in  such  a  pitiful  moral  condition 
that  it  was  not  worth  while  to  trouble  myself  about  my 
external  appearance. 

^  Equivalent  to  various  English  proverbs  which  inculcate  patience.  — Tr. 


BOYHOOD  167 

Katenka,  Liubotchka,  and  Volodya  stared  at  me,  as 
St.  Jerome  led  me  through  the  hall  by  the  hand,  with 
exactly  the  same  expression  with  which  we  generally 
gaze  upon  the  prisoners  who  are  led  past  our  windows 
every  week.  But  when  I  approached  grandmamma's 
chair  with  the  intention  of  kissing  her  hand,  she  turned 
away  from  me,  and  hid  her  hand  beneath  her  man- 
tilla. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  she  said,  after  a  tolerably  long 
silence,  during  which  she  surveyed  me  from  head  to 
foot  with  such  a  look  that  I  did  not  know  what  to  do 
with  my  eyes  and  hands,  "  I  must  say  that  you  prize 
my  love,  and  afford  me  true  pleasure.  M.  St.  Jerome, 
who  at  my  request,"  she  added,  pausing  on  each  word, 
"undertook  your  education,  does  not  wish  now  to  re- 
main in  my  house  any  longer.  Why  ?  Because  of  you, 
my  dear.  I  did  hope  that  you  would  be  grateful,"  she 
continued,  after  a  short  silence,  and  in  a  tone  which 
showed  that  her  speech  had  been  prepared  beforehand, 
"for  his  care  and  labor,  that  you  would  understand  how 
to  value  his  services ;  but  you,  a  beardless  youngster, 
a  bad  little  boy,  have  brought  yourself  to  raise  your 
hand  against  him.  Very  good !  Extremely  fine !  I, 
also,  begin  to  think  that  you  are  incapable  of  appreci- 
ating gentle  treatment,  that  other  and  more  degraded 
means  are  required  for  you.  Ask  his  pardon  this  in- 
stant," she  added,  in  a  tone  of  stern  command,  pointing 
to  St.  Jerome  ;  "  do  you  hear  ?  " 

I  glanced  in  the  direction  indicated  by  grandmamma's 
hand,  and,  catching  sight  of  St.  Jerome's  coat,  turned 
away,  and  did  not  stir  from  the  spot ;  and  again  I  began 
to  feel  that  sinking  at  my  heart. 

"What .''     Don't  you  hear  what  I  say  to  you  ?" 

I  trembled  all  over,  but  did  not  move. 

"Koko  !  "  said  grandmamma,  who  must  have  perceived 
the  inward  agony  which  I  was  suffering.  "  Koko  !  " 
she  said  in  a  tender,  rather  than  a  commanding,  voice, 
"is  this  you  ?  " 

"  Grandmamma,  I  will  not  beg  his  pardon,  because  ...." 
said  I,  pausing  suddenly,  for  I  felt  that  I  should  not 


i68  BOYHOOD 

be  able  to  restrain  the  tears  which  were  suffocating  me 
if  1  uttered  a  single  word  more. 

"  I  command  you,  I  beseech  you.  What  is  the  matter 
with  you  ? " 

"I ....  I ....  won't,  I  ....  can't,"  I  said;  and  the  stifled 
sobs  which  had  collected  in  my  breast  suddenly  cast 
down  the  barriers  which  restrained  them,  and  dissolved 
in  a  flood  of  despair. 

"  Is  this  the  way  you  obey  your  second  mother .-'  is 
this  the  way  you  repay  her  kindness  ? "  said  St.  Jerome, 
in  a  tragic  voice.     "  On  your  knees  !  " 

"  My  God,  if  she  could  have  seen  this  !  "  said  grand- 
mamma, turning  away  from  me,  and  wiping  her  tears, 
which  began  to  make  their  appearance.  "  If  she  could 
have  seen....  All  is  for  the  best.  Yes,  she  could  not 
have  borne  this  sorrow,  she  could  not  have  borne  it." 

And  grandmamma  wept  more  and  more  violently. 
I  wept  also,  but  I  never  thought  of  begging  pardon. 

"  Calm  yourself,  in  the  name  of  heaven,  Madame  la 
Comtesse,"  said  St.  Jerome. 

But  grandmamma  no  longer  heard  him  ;  she  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands,  and  her  sobs  speedily  turned 
into  hiccoughs  and  hysterics.  Mimi  and  Gascha  rushed 
into  the  room  with  frightened  faces,  and  made  her 
smell  of  some  spirits,  and  a  running  and  whispering 
speedily  arose  all  over  the  room. 

"  Admire  your  work,"  said  St.  Jerome,  leading  me  up- 
stairs. 

"  My  God,  what  have  I  done .-'  What  a  frightful 
criminal  I  am  !  " 

As  soon  as  St.  Jerome  had  gone  down-stairs  again, 
after  ordering  me  to  go  to  my  room,  I  ran  to  the  great 
staircase  leading  to  the  street,  without  giving  myself 
any  reason  for  what  I  was  about. 

I  do  not  remember  whether  I  meant  to  run  away,  or 
to  drown  myself ;  I  only  know  that,  covering  my  face 
with  my  hands,  in  order  that  I  might  not  see  any  one,  I 
ran  farther  and  farther  down  those  stairs. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ? "  a  familiar  voice  inquired  all 
at  once.     "I  want  you  too,  my  dear." 


BOYHOOD  169 

I  tried  to  run  past ;  but  papa  caught  me  by  the  hand, 
and  said  sternly  :  — 

"  Come  with  me,  my  good  fellow !  How  dared  you 
touch  the  portfolio  in  my  study?"  said  he,  leading  me 
after  him  into  the  little  boudoir.  "  Eh  !  Why  are  you 
silent  ?     Hey  ?  "  he  added,  taking  me  by  the  ear. 

"  Forgive  me,"  I  said  ;  "  I  don't  know  what  possessed 
me." 

"  Ah,  you  don't  know  what  possessed  you  !  you  don't 
know  !  you  don't  know  !  you  don't  know  !  you  don't 
kno\v  !  "  he  repeated,  and  gave  my  ear  a  tweak  at  each 
word.  "  Will  you  poke  your  nose  where  you  have  no 
business  in  future  .-*  will  you  .'  will  you  .''  " 

Although  my  ear  pained  me  very  much,  I  did  not  cry  ; 
but  I  experienced  a  pleasant  moral  feeling.  No  sooner 
had  papa  released  my  ear,  than  I  seized  his  hand,  and 
began  to  cover  it  with  tears  and  kisses. 

"Whip  me,"  said  I,  through  my  tears.  "Whip  me 
hard,  painfully  ;  I  am  good  for  nothing  ;  I  am  a  wretch  ; 
I  am  a  miserable  being." 

"  What 's  the  matter  with  you  }  "  he  said,  slightly  re- 
pulsing me. 

"  No,  I  won't  go  away  on  any  account,"  I  said,  cling- 
ing to  his  coat.  "  Everybody  hates  me,  I  know  that ; 
but,  for  God's  sake,  listen  to  me,  protect  me,  or  turn  me 
out  of  the  house.  I  cannot  live  with  him  ;  /le  tries  in 
every  .way  to  humiliate  me.  He  makes  me  go  on  my 
knees  before  him.  He  wants  to  thrash  me.  I  won't 
have  it ;  I  am  not  a  little  boy.  I  can't  endure  it ;  I 
shall  die  ;  I  will  kill  myself.  He  told  grandmamma  that 
I  was  a  good-for-nothing,  and  now  she  is  ill,  and  she  will 
die  because  of  me.  I ....  for  God's  sake  flog  me  !  why..., 
torture  ....  me ....  for  ....  it  ?  " 

Tears  suffocated  me.  I  seated  myself  on  the  divan, 
utterly  powerless  to  say  more,  and  dropped  my  head  on 
his  knees,  sobbing  so  that  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  should 
die  that  very  minute. 

"  What  are  you  crying  about,  baby  ? "  said  papa,  sym- 
pathetically, as  he  bent  over  me. 

"He    is    my   tyrant  ....  tormentor I    shall    die.... 


I70  BOYHOOD 

nobody  loves  ....  me  ! "     I  could  hardly  speak,  and  I  began 
to  fall  into  convulsions. 

Papa  took  me  in  his  arms,  and  carried  me  into  the 
bedroom.  I  fell  asleep.  When  I  awoke,  it  was  very 
late.  A  single  candle  was  burning  near  my  bed,  and 
our  family  doctor,  Mimi,  and  Liubotchka  were  sitting  in 
the  room.  It  was  evident  from  their  faces  that  they 
feared  for  my  health  ;  but  I  felt  so  well  and  light  after 
my  twelve  hours'  sleep,  that  I  could  have  leaped  from 
the  bed,  had  it  not  been  disagreeable  for  me  to  disturb 
their  belief  in  my  severe  illness. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

HATRED 

Yes,  it  was  a  genuine  feeling  of  hatred.  Not  that 
hatred  which  is  only  depicted  in  romances,  and  in 
which  I  do  not  believe,  —  hatred  which  finds  delight  in 
doing  evil  to  mankind, — but  that  hatred  which  inspires 
you  with  an  unconquerable  aversion  to  a  person  who, 
nevertheless,  deserves  your  respect ;  which  makes  his 
hair,  his  neck,  his  walk,  the  sound  of  his  voice,  his  every 
limb,  his  every  motion,  repulsive  to  you,  and  at  the  same 
time  attracts  you  to  him  by  some  incomprehensible 
power,  and  forces  you  to  watch  his  slightest  acts.  This 
feeling  I  experienced  toward  St.  J6r6me. 

St.  Jerome  had  lived  with  us  for  a  year  and  a  half. 
Judging  the  man  now,  in  cold  blood,  I  find  that  he  was 
a  fine  Frenchman,  but  a  Frenchman  in  the  most  thor- 
ough sense.  He  was  not  stupid  ;  he  was  tolerably  well 
educated,  and  he  conscientiously  fulfilled  his  duties 
toward  us ;  but  he  possessed  the  distinctive  traits  which 
are  peculiar  to  all  his  countrymen,  and  which  are  so  re- 
pugnant to  the  Russian  character,  —  frivolous  egotism, 
vanity,  impudence,  and  unmannerly  self-confidence.  All 
this  displeased  me  greatly. 

Of  course  grandmamma  explained  to  him  her  views  on 


BOYHOOD  171 

corporal  punishment,  and  he  did  not  dare  to  whip  us ; 
but,  in  spite  of  this,  he  often  threatened  us,  especially 
me,  with  the  rod,  and  pronounced  the  word  fo?/eUer  (as 
if  it  yNQXQ  foiiattci')  in  a  very  repulsive  manner,  and  with 
an  intonation  which  seemed  to  indicate  that  it  would 
afford  him  the  greatest  satisfaction  to  flog  me. 

I  did  not  fear  the  pain  of  punishment  at  all,  never 
having  experienced  it ;  but  the  mere  thought  that  St, 
Jerome  might  strike  me  put  me  into  a  state  of  suppressed 
rage  and  despair. 

It  had  happened  that  Karl  Ivanitch,  in  a  moment  of 
vexation,  had  reduced  us  to  order  with  the  ruler  or  his 
suspenders,  but  I  recall  this  without  the  slightest  anger. 
Even  at  the  time  of  which  I  speak  (when  I  was  fourteen), 
if  Karl  Ivanitch  had  chanced  to  flog  me,  I  should  have 
borne  his  chastisement  with  perfect  composure.  I  loved 
Karl  Ivanitch.  I  remembered  him  from  the  time  when 
I  remembered  myself,  and  was  accustomed  to  him  as  a 
member  of  my  family  ;  but  St.  Jerome  was  a  haughty, 
self-conceited  man,  for  whom  I  felt  no  sentiment  but 
that  involuntary  respect  with  which  a.\\  grozau-up  people 
inspired  me.  Karl  Ivanitch  was  a  ridiculous  old  man,  a 
kind  of  man-servant  whom  I  heartily  loved,  but  placed 
beneath  myself  in  my  childish  comprehension  of  social 
classes. 

St.  Jerome,  on  the  contrary,  was  a  handsome,  culti- 
vated young  dandy,  who  tried  to  stand  on  an  equality 
with  every  one. 

Karl  Ivanitch  always  scolded  and  punished  us  coolly. 
It  was  evident  that  he  regarded  it  as  a  necessary  but 
disagreeable  duty.  St.  Jerome,  on  the  other  hand, 
Hked  to  pose  in  the  ro/e  of  an  instructor.  It  was  plain, 
when  he  punished  us,  that  he  did  so  more  tor  his 
own  satisfaction  than  for  our  good.  He  was  carried 
away  by  his  own  greatness.  His  elegant  French 
phrases,  which  he  uttered  with  strong  emphasis  on  the 
last  syllable,  with  circumflex  accents,  were  inexpress- 
ibly repugnant  to  me.  When  Karl  Ivanitch  got  angry, 
he  said,  "  Puppets'  comedy,  scamp,  little  boy,  champagne 
fly ! "     St,  Jerome    called    us,    "  Worthless    fellow,  vile 


172 


BOYHOOD 


scapegrace,"  and  so  forth,  names  which  wounded  my 
self-love. 

Karl  Ivanitch  put  us  on  our  knees,  with  our  faces  in 
a  corner ;  and  the  punishment  consisted  of  the  physical 
pain  incident  to  such  an  attitude.  St.  Jerome  threw 
out  his  chest,  and  shouted,  with  a  majestic  wave  of  the 
hand,  and  with  a  tragic  voice,  "  On  your  knees  !  "  made 
us  kneel  with  our  faces  toward  him,  and  beg  his  pardon. 
The  punishment  consisted  in  humiliation. 

I  was  not  punished,  and  no  one  so  much  as  mentioned 
to  me  what  had  happened  ;  but  I  could  not  forget  all 
that  I  had  experienced  —  despair,  shame,  terror,  and 
hate  —  in  those  two  days.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  St. 
Jerome,  from  that  time  forth,  seemed  to  give  up  all  hopes 
of  me,  and  hardly  concerned  himself  with  me  at  all,  I 
could  not  accustom  myself  to  look  upon  him  with  indif- 
ference. Every  time  that  our  eyes  met  by  accident,  it 
seemed  to  me  that  enmity  was  far  too  plainly  expressed 
in  my  glance,  and  I  hastened  to  assume  an  expression  of 
indifference  ;  but  then  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  under- 
stood my  hypocrisy,  and  I  blushed  and  turned  quite 
away. 

In  a  word,  it  was  inexpressibly  disagreeable  to  me  to 
have  any  relations  whatever  with  him. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

THE    maids'    room 

I  FELT  more  and  more  lonely,  and  solitary  meditation 
and  observation  formed  my  principal  delights.  The  sub- 
ject of  my  meditations  I  will  treat  of  in  a  succeeding 
chapter ;  but  the  chief  theater  of  my  observations  was 
the  maids'  room,  in  which  a  very  absorbing  and  touch- 
ing romance,  for  me,  took  place.  The  heroine  of  this 
romance  was  Mascha,  of  course.  She  was  in  love  with 
Vasily,  who  had  known  her  when  she  lived  out  of  ser- 
vice, and  had  promised  to  marry  her  at  that  time.  Fate, 
which  had  parted  them   five  years    before,   had   again 


BOYHOOD  173 

brought  them  together  in  grandmamma's  house,  but 
had  placed  a  barrier  in  the  way  of  their  mutual  love  in 
the  person  of  Nikolai  (Mascha's  uncle),  who  would  not 
hear  to  his  niece's  marriage  with  Vasily,  whom  he  called 
an  absurd  and  dissipated  man. 

The  effect  of  this  obstacle  was  to  cause  the  hitherto 
rather  cold-blooded  and  negligent  Vasily  suddenly  to  fall 
in  love  with  Mascha  ;  and  he  loved  her  in  away  of  which 
only  a  house-serf  from  the  tailor's  corps,  with  a  pink 
shirt  and  pomaded  hair,  is  capable. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  exhibitions  of  his  love 
were  exceedingly  strange  and  incongruous  (for  instance, 
when  he  met  Mascha,  he  always  tried  to  cause  her  pain,, 
and  either  pinched  her,  or  slapped  her,  or  hugged  her 
with  such  force  that  she  could  hardly  draw  her  breath), 
his  affection  was  genuine,  which  was  proved  by  the 
circumstance  that  from  the  day  when  Nikolai'  finally  re- 
fused him  his  niece's  hand,  Vasily  took  to  drinking  from 
grief,  and  began  to  loiter  about  the  drinking-houses, 
create  disturbances,  and,  in  a  word,  to  conduct  himself 
so  badly,  that  more  than  once  he  subjected  himself  to 
scandalous  correction  by  the  police.  But  this  behavior 
and  its  results  appeared  to  constitute  a  merit  in  Mascha's 
eyes,  and  increased  her  love  for  him.  When  Vasily 
was  in  retirement  at  the  police-station  Mascha  wept  for 
days  together  without  drying  her  eyes,  and  complained 
of  her  bitter  fate  to  Gascha  (who  took  a  lively  interest 
in  the  affairs  of  the  unhappy  lovers) ;  and,  scorning  the 
scoldings  and  beatings  of  her  uncle,  she  stole  away  to 
the  police-station  on  the  sly  to  visit  and  comfort  her 
friend. 

Do  not  disdain,  reader,  the  society  to  which  I  am  in- 
troducing you.  If  the  chords  of  love  and  sympathy 
have  not  grown  weak  within  your  soul,  sounds  to  which 
they  will  respond  will  be  found  in  the  maids*  room. 
Whether  it  please  you  or  not  to  follow  me,  I  shall  be- 
take myself  to  the  landing  on  the  staircase,  from  which 
I  could  see  all  that  went  on  in  the  maids'  room.  There 
is  the  stove-bench  on  which  I  stand  ;  a  flat-iron,  a  paste- 
board doll  with  a  broken  nose,  a  little  wash-tub,  and  a 


174 


BOYHOOD 


hand-basin ;  there  is  the  window-sill  upon  which  are 
heaped  in  confusion  a  bit  of  black  wax,  a  skein  of  silk, 
a  green  cucumber  which  has  been  bitten,  and  a  bonbon 
box ;  there,  also,  is  the  large  red  table,  upon  which, 
upon  a  bit  of  sewing  which  is  begun,  lies  a  brick 
wrapped  in  calico,  and  behind  which  sJie  sits,  in  my 
favorite  pink  linen  dress  and  blue  kerchief,  which  par- 
ticularly attract  my  attention.  She  sews,  pausing  now 
and  then  in  order  to  scratch  her  head  with  her  needle, 
or  adjust  a  candle;  and  I  gaze  and  think,  Why  was  she 
not  born  a  lady,  with  those  bright  blue  eyes,  that  huge 
golden  braid  of  hair,  and  plump  bosom  ?  How  it  would 
have  become  her  to  sit  in  the  drawing-room,  in  a  cap 
with  pink  ribbons,  and  a  deep  red  gown,  not  such  as 
Mimi  has,  but  like  the  one  I  saw  on  the  Tverskoy 
boulevard  !  She  would  have  embroidered  at  her  frame, 
and  I  might  have  watched  her  in  the  mirror ;  and  I 
would  have  done  everything  she  wanted,  whatever  it 
might  have  been ;  I  would  have  handed  her  her  mantle 
and  her  food  myself. 

And  what  a  drunken  face  and  disgusting  figure  that 
Vasily  is  in  his  tight  coat,  worn  above  that  dirty  pink 
shirt,  with  the  tails  hanging  out !  At  every  movement 
of  his  body,  at  every  bend  of  his  spine,  I  seem  to  per- 
ceive the  indisputable  signs  of  the  revolting  punishment 
which  had  overtaken  him. 

"What,  Vasya!  again?"  said  Mascha,  sticking  her 
needle  into  the  cushion,  but  not  raising  her  head  to 
greet  Vasily  as  he  entered. 

"And  what  of  it.?  Will  any  good  come  of  Jiimf" 
retorted  Vasily.  "  If  I  had  only  decided  on  something 
alone  !  but  now  I  shall  be  ruined  all  for  nothing,  and 
all  through  //m." 

"  Will  you  have  some  tea } "  said  Nadyozha,  another 
maid. 

"  I  thank  you  humbly.  And  why  does  that  thief, 
your  uncle,  hate  me }  Why }  Because  I  have  good 
clothes  of  my  own,  because  of  my  pride,  because  of  my 
walk.  Enough.  There  you  have  it ! "  concluded  Vasily, 
with  a  wave  of  the  hand. 


BOYHOOD  175* 

"  One  must  be  obedient,"  said  Mascha,  biting  off  her 
thread,  "and  you  are  so...." 

"  I  can  bear  it  no  longer,  that  I  can't !  " 

At  that  moment  the  sound  of  a  closing  door  re- 
sounded from  grandmamma's  room,  and  Gascha's  grum- 
bling voice  approaching  the  staircase. 

"  Go  try  to  please  her,  when  she  does  n't  know  herself 
what  she  wants.  Accursed  life  !  May  the  Lord  for- 
give my  sins,  if  for  that  alone,"  she  muttered,  flourish- 
ing her  arms. 

"  My  respects,  Agafya  Mikhailovna,"  said  Vasily,  ris- 
ing to  greet  her. 

"  Well,  so  you  are  there !  I  don't  want  your  re- 
spects," she  replied  grimly,  staring  at  him.  "  And  why 
do  you  come  here  .-*  Is  the  maids'  room  a  place  for  men 
to  come  .'' " 

"  I  wanted  to  inquire  after  your  health,"  said  Vasily, 
timidly. 

"  I  shall  soon  expire,  that 's  the  state  of  my  health," 
screamed  Agafya  Mikhai'lovna,  still  more  angrily,  and 
at  the  top  of  her  voice. 

Vasily  laughed. 

"  There  's  nothing  to  laugh  at,  and  if  I  say  that  you 
are  to  take  yourself  off,  then  march !  See,  that  heathen 
wants  to  marry,  the  low  fellow  !     Now  march,  be  off !" 

And  Agafya  went  stamping  to  her  room,  and  slammed 
the  door  so  violently  that  the  glass  in  the  windows 
rattled. 

She  could  be  heard  for  a  long  time  behind  the  parti- 
tion, scolding  at  everything  and  everybody,  cursing  her 
existence,  hurling  her  effects  about,  and  pulling  the 
ears  of  her  beloved  cat ;  finally  the  door  opened  a  crack, 
and  the  cat  flew  out,  swung  by  her  tail,  and  mewing 
piteously. 

"  Evidently  I  had  better  come  another  time  to  drink 
tea,"  said  Vasily,  in  a  whisper;  "farewell  until  a  pleas- 
anter  meeting." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Nadyozha,  with  a  wink,  "  I  will 
go  and  see  to  the  samovar." 

"  Yes,  and  I  '11  make  an  end  of  it  once  for  all,"  con- 


176  BOYHOOD 

tinned  Vasily,  seating  himself  close  to  Mascha,  as  soon 
as  Nadyozha  had  left  the  room. 

•'  I  '11  either  go  straight  to  the  countess,  and  say, 
'Thus  and  so  is  the  state  of  things,'  or  else....  I  '11  give 
up  everything,  and  run  away  to  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
by  God  !  " 

"  And  how  can  I  remain  ?  " 

"  I  am  only  sorry  for  you,  and  you  should  have  been 
free,  my  little  dove,  lo-o-ng  ago,  so  surely  as  God  lives." 

"Why  don't  you  bring  me  your  shirts  to  wash, 
Vasya  ?  "  said  Mascha,  after  a  momentary  silence  ;  "  see 
how  black  this  one  is,"  she  added,  taking  hold  of  the 
shirt-collar. 

At  that  moment  grandmamma's  little  bell  was  heard 
from  below,  and  Gascha  emerged  from  her  chamber. 

"  What  are  you  getting  from  her  now,  you  vile  man  .''  " 
she  said,  pushing  Vasily  toward  the  door,  as  he  rose 
hastily  at  the  sight  of  her;  "you  have  brought  the  girl 
to  this  state,  and  still  you  cling  to  her,  you  bare-backed 
wretch ;  evidently,  it 's  merry  for  you  to  gaze  upon  her 
tears.  Go  away.  Take  yourself  off.  —  What  good  did 
you  ever  find  in  him  .''  "  she  went  on,  turning  to  Mascha. 
"  Did  n't  your  uncle  beat  you  enough  to-day  on  his  ac- 
count .•*  But  no,  you  will  have  your  own  way :  '  I  won't 
marry  anybody  but  Vasily  Gruskoff.'     The  fool  !  " 

"  I  won't  marry  anybody,  I  don't  love  anybody,  if  I  'm 
beaten  to  death  for  his  sake,"  cried  Mascha,  bursting 
suddenly  into  tears. 

I  gazed  long  at  Mascha,  who,  reclining  upon  a  chest, 
wiped  away  her  tears  with  her  kerchief ;  and  I  made 
every  effort  to  alter  my  opinion  of  Vasily,  and  endeav- 
ored to  find  the  point  of  view  from  which  he  could 
appear  so  attractive  to  her.  But  in  spite  of  my  sincere 
sympathy  with  her  grief,  I  could  not  possibly  compre- 
hend how  such  a  bewitching  being  as  Mascha  appeared 
in  my  eyes  could  love  Vasily. 

"When  I  am  grown  up,"  I  reasoned  with  myself,  as  I 
went  up-stairs  to  my  own  quarters,  "  Petrovskoe  will  be 
mine,  and  Mascha  and  Vasily  will  be  my  serfs.  I  shall 
be  sitting  in  the  study,  smoking  my  pipe,  and  Mascha 


BOYHOOD  177 

will  be  going  to  the  kitchen  with  her  flat-iron.  I  shall 
say,  ■'  Call  Mascha  to  me.'  She  will  come,  and  there  will 
be  no  one  in  the  room.  — All  at  once,  Vasily  will  enter, 
and  when  he  sees  Mascha  he  will  say,  '  My  dear  little  dov^e 
is  ruined  ! '  And  Mascha  will  cry ;  and  I  shall  say,  '  Vasily, 
I  know  that  you  love  her,  and  she  loves  you  :  here  are  a 
thousand  rubles  for  you  ;  marry  her;  and  may  God  grant 
you  happiness.'  And  then  I  shall  go  into  the  boudoir."  ^ 
Among  the  innumerable  thoughts  and  fancies  which  pass 
through  the  mind  and  imagination,  leaving  no  trace, 
there  are  some  which  leave  a  deep,  sensitive  furrow,  so 
that,  without  recalling  the  thought  itself,  one  remembers 
that  there  was  something  pleasant  in  one's  mind,  and 
one  feels  the  trace  of  the  thought,  and  tries  to  reproduce 
it  once  again.  Such  a  deep  trace  did  the  thought  of 
sacrificing  my  own  feeling,  for  the  sake  of  such  happi- 
ness as  Mascha  could  find  only  in  a  marriage  with 
Vasily,  leave  in  my  soul. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

BOYHOOD 

I  CAN  scarcely  believe  what  were  the  favorite  and 
most  constant  subjects  of  my  meditations  during  my 
boyhood  —  they  were  so  incompatible  with  my  age 
and  position.  But,  in  my  opinion,  incompatibility  be- 
tween a  man's  position  and  his  moral  activity  is  the 
truest  proof  of  sincerity. 

During  the  course  of  the  year,  .when  I  led  an  iso- 
lated moral  life,  concentrated  within  myself,  all  the 
abstract  questions  concerning  the  destination  of  man, 
the  future  life,  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  already 
presented  themselves  to  me ;  and,  with  all  the  fervor  of 
inexperience,  my  weak  childish  mind  endeavored  to  solve 
these  questions,  the  presentation  of  which  represents  the 
highest  stage  to  which  the  mind  of  man  can  attain,  but 
the  solution  of  which  is  not  granted  to  him. 

1  Or  divan-room. 


178  BOYHOOD 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  human  mind,  in  every  sepa- 
rate individual,  traverses  the  same  path  during  develop- 
ment by  which  it  is  developed  in  whole  races  ;  that  the 
thoughts  which  serve  as  a  foundation  for  the  various 
philosophical  theories  form  the  inalienable  attributes  of 
the  mind ;  but  that  every  man  has  recognized  them, 
with  more  or  less  clearness,  even  before  he  has  known 
of  the  philosophical  theories. 

These  thoughts  presented  themselves  to  my  mind 
with  such  clearness,  and  in  such  a  striking  light,  that  I 
even  tried  to  apply  them  to  life,  fancying  that  I  was  the 
first  to  discover  such  great  and  useful  truths. 

Once  the  thought  occurred  to  me  that  happiness 
does  not  depend  upon  external  conditions,  but  on  our 
relations  to  them  ;  that  man,  after  he  is  accustomed  to 
endure  suffering,  cannot  be  unhappy ;  and,  in  order  to 
accustom  myself  to  pain,  I  held  Tatischeff's  lexicon  for 
five  minutes  in  my  outstretched  hands,  in  spite  of  dread- 
ful pain,  or  I  went  into  the  garret  and  castigated  my- 
self on  the  bare  back  with  a  rope  so  severely  that  tears 
sprang  involuntarily  to  my  eyes. 

On  another  occasion,  remembering,  all  of  a  sudden, 
that  death  awaited  me  at  any  hour,  at  any  moment,  I 
made  up  my  mind,  not  understanding  how  people  had 
hitherto  failed  to  understand  it,  that  man  can  be  happy 
only  by  making  use  of  the  present,  and  not  thinking  of 
the  future ;  and  for  three  days,  under  the  influence  of 
this  thought,  I  neglected  my  lessons,  and  did  nothing 
but  lie  on  the  bed,  and  enjoy  myself  by  reading  a  ro- 
mance and  eating  gingerbread  with  Kronoff  mead,  for 
which  I  spent  the  last  money  I  had.     ♦* 

On  another  occasion,  while  standing  before  the  black- 
board engaged  in  drawing  various  figures  upon  it  with 
chalk,  I  was  suddenly  struck  by  the  thought :  Why  is 
symmetry  pleasing  to  the  eye  .-'     What  is  symmetry  .-' 

It  is  an  inborn  feeling,  I  answered  myself.  But  on 
what  is  it  founded }  Is  there  symmetry  in  everything 
in  life  }  On  the  contrary  here  is  life  —  and  I  drew  an 
oval  figure  on  one  side  of  the  blackboard.  After  life  the 
soul  passes  into  eternity;  here  is  eternity  —  and  from 


BOYHOOD  179 

one  side  of  the  oval  I  drew  a  line  which  extended  to 
the  very  edge  of  the  board.  Why  not  another  similar 
line  from  the  other  side  ?  Yes,  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
what  kind  of  eternity  is  that  which  is  on  one  side  only  ? 
for  we  certainly  have  existed  before  this  life,  although 
we  have  lost  the  memory  of  it. 

This  reasoning,  which  appeared  to  me  extremely 
novel  and  lucid,  and  whose  thread  I  can  now  only  catch 
with  difficulty,  pleased  me  excessively,  and  I  took  a 
sheet  of  paper  with  the  idea  of  setting  it  forth  in  writ- 
ing ;  but,  in  the  process,  such  a  mass  of  thoughts  sud- 
denly entered  my  mind,  that  I  was  obliged  to  rise  and 
walk  about  the  room.  When  I  approached  the  window, 
my  attention  turned  on  the  water-carrier  horse  which 
the  coachman  was  harnessing  at  the  moment ;  and  all 
my  thoughts  were  concentrated  upon  the  solution  of  the 
question,  Into  what  animal  or  man  will  the  soul  of  that 
horse  migrate,  when  it  is  set  free  .-•  At  that  moment, 
Volodya  was  passing  through  the  room,  and  smiled,  per- 
ceiving that  I  was  meditating  something  ;  and  that  smile 
was  sufficient  to  make  me  comprehend  that  all  I  had 
been  thinkino-  about  was  the  most  frig^htful  nonsense. 

I  have  related  this,  to  me,  memorable  occasion,  merely 
for  the  purpose  of  giving  the  reader  to  understand  the 
nature  of  my  reflections. 

But  in  none  of  all  the  philosophical  directions  was  I 
drawn  so  far  as  by  skepticism,  which  at  one  time  brought 
me  into  a  state  bordering  on  madness.  I  fancied  that, 
besides  myself,  nothing  and  nobody  existed  in  the  whole 
world  ;  that  objects  were  not  objects,  but  images  which 
only  appeared  when  I  directed  my  attention  to  them  ; 
and  that,  as  soon  as  I  ceased  to  think  of  them,  the  ob- 
jects disappeared. 

In  a  word,  I  agreed  with  Schelling  in  the  conviction 
that  objects  do  not  exist,  but  only  my  relation  to  them 
exists.  There  were  moments  when,  under  the  influence 
of  thisjixed  idea,  I  reached  such  a  stage  of  derangement 
that  I  sometimes  glanced  quickly  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion, hoping  suddenly  to  find  nothingness  {nMnt)  where 
I  was  not. 


i8o  BOYHOOD 

A  pitiful,  worthless  spring  of  moral  action  is  the  mind 
of  man  ! 

My  weak  mind  could  not  penetrate  the  impenetrable ; 
but  in  this  labor,  which  was  beyond  its  strength,  I  lost, 
one  after  the  other,  the  convictions  which,  for  the  hap- 
piness of  my  own  life,  I  never  should  have  dared  to 
touch  upon. 

From  all  this  heavy  moral  toil  I  brought  away  noth- 
ing except  a  shiftiness  of  mind  which  weakened  the  force 
of  my  will,  and  a  habit  of  constant  moral  analysis  which 
destroyed  freshness  of  feeling  and  clearness  of  judg- 
ment. 

Abstract  thoughts  take  shape,  in  consequence  of 
man's  capacity  to  seize  with  his  perceptions  the  state  of 
his  soul  at  any  given  moment,  and  transfer  it  to  his 
memory.  My  tendency  to  abstract  meditation  devel- 
oped the  perceptive  faculties  in  me  to  such  an  unnatural 
degree  that  frequently,  when  I  began  to  think  of  the 
simplest  sort  of  thing,  I  fell  into  an  inextricable  circle 
of  analysis  of  my  thoughts,  and  no  longer  considered 
the  question  which  had  occupied  me,  but  thought  of 
what  I  was  thinking  about.  When  I  asked  myself.  Of 
what  am  I  thinking.?  I  replied,  1  think  of  what  I  am  think- 
ing. And  now  what  am  I  thinking  of .''  I  think  that  I 
am  thinking  of  what  I  am  thinking,  and  so  on.  Intellect 
gave  way  before  ratiocination.    '^ 

Nevertheless,  the  philosophical  discoveries  which  I 
made  were  extremely  flattering  to  my  self-conceit.  I 
often  fancied  myself  a  great  man,  who  was  discovering 
new  truths  for  the  benefit  of  mankind,  and  I  gazed  upon 
other  mortals  with  a  proud  consciousness  of  my  worth  ; 
but,  strange  to  say,  when  I  came  in  contact  with  these 
mortals,  I  was  shy  in  the  presence  of  every  one  of  them, 
and  the  higher  I  rated  myself  in  my  own  opinion,  the 
less  capable  I  was  of  displaying  my  consciousness  of  my 
own  merit  to  others,  and  I  could  not  even  accustom 
myself  not  to  feel  ashamed  of  my  every  word  and  move- 
ment, however  simple. 


BOYHOOD  i8i 

CHAPTER   XX 

VOLODYA 

Yes,  the  farther  I  proceed  in  the  description  of  this 
period  of  my  life,  the  more  painful  and  difficult  does  it 
become  for  me.  Rarely,  rarely  amid  the  memories  of 
this  time,  do  I  iind  moments  of  the  genuine  warmth  of 
feeling  which  so  brilliantly  and  constantly  illumined  the 
beginning  of  my  life.  I  feel  an  involuntary  desire  to 
pass  as  quickly  as  possible  over  the  desert  of  boyhood, 
and  attain  that  happy  epoch  when  a  truly  tender,  noble 
sentiment  of  friendship  lighted  up  the  conclusion  of  this 
period  of  growth,  and  laid  the  foundation  for  a  new 
epoch,  full  of  charm  and  poetry, — the  epoch  of  adoles- 
cence. 

I  shall  not  trace  my  recollections  hour  by  hour  ;  but 
I  will  cast  a  quick  glance  at  the  principal  ones,  from 
that  time  to  which  I  have  brought  down  my  narrative 
until  my  connection  with  a  remarkable  man,  who  exer- 
cised a  decided  and  beneficial  influence  upon  my  char- 
acter and  course. 

Volodya  will  enter  the  university  in  a  few  days. 
Separate  masters  come  for  him  ;  and  I  listen  with  envy 
and  involuntary  respect  as  he  taps  the  blackboard  boldly 
with  the  chalk,  and  talks  of  functions,  and  sinuses,  and 
coordinates,  and  so  on,  which  seem  to  me  the  expres- 
sion of  unattainable  wisdom.  But  one  Sunday,  after 
dinner,  all  the  teachers  and  two  professors  assemble  in 
grandmamma's  room  ;  and  in  the  presence  of  papa  and 
several  guests  they  rehearse  the  university  examina- 
tion, in  the  course  of  which  Volodya,  to  grandmamma's 
great  joy,  exhibits  remarkable  learning.  Questions  on 
various  subjects  are  also  put  to  me ;  but  I  make  a  very 
poor  show,  and  the  professors  evidently  endeavor  to 
conceal  my  ignorance  before  grandmamma,  which  con- 
fuses me  still  more.  However,  very  little  attention  is 
paid  to  me  ;  I  am  only  fifteen,  consequently  there  is  still 
a  year  to  my  examination.     Volodya  only  comes  down- 


i8i  BOYHOOD 

stairs  at  dinner-time,  but  spends  the  whole  day  and  even 
the  evenings  up-stairs  in  his  occupations,  not  of  neces- 
sity, but  at  his  own  desire.  He  is  extremely  vain,  and 
does  not  want  to  pass  merely  a  mediocre  examination, 
but  a  distinguished  one. 

But  now  the  day  of  the  first  examination  has  arrived. 
Volodya  puts  on  his  blue  coat  with  brass  buttons,  his 
gold  watch,  and  lacquered  boots  ;  papa's  phaeton  is 
brought  up  to  the  door.  Nikolai'  throws  aside  the 
apron,  and  Volodya  and  St.  Jerome  drive  off  to  the 
university.  The  girls,  especially  Katenka,  look  out  of 
the  window  at  Volodya's  fine  figure  as  he  seats  himself 
in  the  carriage,  with  joyous  and  rapturous  faces  ;  and 
papa  says,  "  God  grant  it !  God  grant  it ! "  and  grand- 
mamma, who  has  also  dragged  herself  to  the  window, 
makes  the  sign  of  the  cross  over  Volodya,  with  tears 
in  her  eyes,  until  the  phaeton  disappears  round  the 
corner  of  the  lane,  and  says  something  in  a  whisper. 

Volodya  returns.  All  inquire  impatiently,  "Well, 
was  it  good  .''  how  much  ? "  But  it  is  already  evident 
from  his  beaming  face  that  it  is  good.  Volodya  has 
received  five.  On  the  following  day  he  is  accompanied 
by  the  same  anxiety  and  wishes  for  his  success,  and 
received  with  the  same  impatience  and  joy.  Thus  nine 
days  pass.  On  the  tenth  day,  the  last  and  most  difficult 
examination  of  all  awaits  him  — the  Law  of  God  ;  ^  and 
all  of  us  stand  at  the  window  and  wait  for  him  with  the 
greatest  impatience.  Two  hours  have  already  elapsed, 
and  still  Volodya  has  not  returned. 

"Heavens!  my  dears!!  here  they  are  I !  I  here  they 
are  ! ! ! !  "  screams  Liubotchka,  with  her  face  glued  to 
the  pane. 

And,  in  fact,  Volodya  is  sitting  beside  St.  Jerome  in 
the  phaeton,  but  dressed  no  longer  in  his  blue  coat  and 
gray  cap,  but  in  student  uniform,  with  blue  embroidered 
collar,  three-cornered  hat,  and  a  gilt  sword  by  his  side. 

"  Oh,  if  j/oti  were  only  alive  !  "  shrieks  grandmamma, 
when  she  beholds  Volodya  in  his  uniform,  and  falls  into 
a  swoon. 

^  The  official  title  of  religious  instruction, — Tr. 


BOYHOOD  183 

Volodya  runs  into  the  vestibule  with  a  beaming  face, 
kisses  me,  Liubotchka,  Mimi,  and  Katenka,  who  blushes 
to  her  very  ears.  Volodya  is  beside  himself  with  joy. 
And  how  handsome  he  is  in  his  uniform  !  How  be- 
coming his  blue  collar  is  to  his  black  whiskers,  which 
are  just  sprouting !  What  a  long,  slender  waist  he 
has,  and  what  a  fine  gait !  On  that  memorable  day,  all 
dine  in  grandmamma's  room.  Joy  beams  from  every 
countenance  ;  and  after  dinner,  at  dessert,  the  butler, 
with  politely  majestic  but  merry  countenance,  brings 
in  a  bottle  of  champagne,  enveloped  in  a  napkin. 
Grandmamma  drinks  champagne  for  the  first  time  since 
mamma's  death ;  she  drinks  a  whole  glass,  as  she  con- 
gratulates Volodya,  and  she  weeps  again  wath  joy  as 
she  looks  at  him.  Volodya  drives  out  of  the  courtyard 
in  his  own  equipage  now,  receives  Jiis  acquaintances  in 
his  own  apartments,  smokes  tobacco,  goes  to  balls  ;  and 
I  even  saw  him  and  his  companions,  on  one  occasion, 
drink  up  two  bottles  of  champagne  in  his  room,  and  at 
every  glass  propose  the  healths  of  some  mysterious  per- 
sonages, and  dispute  as  to  which  one  the  bottom  of  the 
bottle  belonged  to.  But  he  dines  regularly  at  home, 
and  sits  in  the  boudoir  after  dinner,  as  before,  and  is 
forever  engaged  in  some  mysterious  discussion  with 
Katenka;  but  so  far  as  I  can  hear  —  for  I  do  not  take 
part  in  their  conversation  —  they  are  merely  talking 
of  the  heroes  and  heroines  of  the  novels  which  they 
have  read,  of  love  and  jealousy  ;  and  I  cannot  at  all 
understand  what  interest  they  can  find  in  such  discus- 
sions, and  why  they  smile  so  artfully  and  dispute  so 
warmly. 

I  observe  in  general  that  some  strange  delations 
exist  between  Katenka  and  Volodya,  besides  the  readily 
intelligible  friendship  between  companions  of  childhood, 
which  set  them  apart  from  us  and  unite  them  to  each 
other  in  a  mysterious  way. 


i84  BOYHOOD 


CHAPTER    XXI 

KATENKA    AND    LIUBOTCHKA 

Katenka  is  sixteen,  she  is  grown  up  ;  the  angularity 
of  form,  the  timidity  and  awkwardness  of  movement, 
peculiar  to  girls  in  the  age  of  transition,  have  made  way 
for  the  harmonious  freshness  and  grace  of  a  newly  blown 
flower.  But  she  has  not  changed  ;  the  same  bright  blue 
eyes  and  smiling  glance,  the  same  little  straight  nose 
which  forms  almost  one  line  with  the  brow,  with  its 
strong  nostrils,  and  the  tiny  mouth  with  its  brilliant 
smile,  the  same  tiny  dimples  on  the  rosy,  transparent 
cheeks,  the  same  little  white  hands  ;  and  for  some  rea- 
son, as  heretofore,  the  expression,  a  pure  girl,  fits  her 
peculiarly  well.  The  only  new  thing  about  her  is  her 
heavy  blond  hair,  which  she  wears  in  the  fashion  of 
grown-up  people ;  and  her  young  bosom,  w^hose  advent 
plainly  delights  yet  shames  her. 

Although  Liubotchka  has  grown  up  and  always  studied 
with  her,  she  is  quite  a  different  girl  in  every  respect, 

Liubotchka  is  small  of  stature,  and  in  consequence  of 
the  rickets  her  legs  are  still  crooked,  and  her  figure  is 
very  ugly.  The  only  pretty  thing  about  her  face  is  her 
eyes,  and  they  are  really  very  beautiful,  —  large  and 
black,  and  with  such  an  indefinably  attractive  expression 
of  dignity  and  simplicity  that  it  is  impossible  not  to  re- 
mark them.  Liubotchka  is  natural  and  simple  in  every- 
thing. Katenka  does  not  wish  to  be  like  any  one  else 
in  any  respect.  Liubotchka's  gaze  is  always  straight 
forward ;  and  sometimes  she  fixes  her  great  black  eyes 
on  a  person,  and  keeps  them  there  so  long  that  she  is 
reproved  and  told  that  it  is  not  polite. 

Katenka,  on  the  other  hand,  drops  her  eyelashes, 
draws  her  lids  together,  and  declares  that  she  is  short- 
sighted, though  I  know  very  well  that  her  sight  is  per- 
fectly good.  Liubotchka  does  not  like  to  attitudinize 
before  strangers ;  and  when  any  of  the  guests  begin  to 
kiss  her,  she  pouts,  and   says  that  she  cannot  endure 


BOYHOOD  185 

sentiment.  Katenka,  on  the  contrary,  becomes  particu- 
larly affectionate  with  Mimi  in  the  presence  of  guests, 
and  loves  to  promenade  in  the  hall,  in  the  embrace  of 
some  girl.  Liubotchka  is  a  terrible  laugher  ;  and  some- 
times, in  outbursts  of  merriment,  she  flourishes  her  hands 
and  runs  about  the  room.  Katenka,  on  the  contrary, 
covers  her  mouth  with  her  hands  or  her  handkerchief 
when  she  begins  to  laugh.  Liubotchka  always  sits  and 
walks  upright,  with  her  arms  dangling ;  Katenka  holds 
her  head  a  little  on  one  side,  and  walks  with  her  hands 
clasped  together.  Liubotchka  is  always  dreadfully  glad 
when  she  succeeds  in  talking  with  a  grown-up  man,  and  de- 
clares that  she  will  certainly  marry  a  hussar  ;  but  Katenka 
says  that  all  men  are  hateful  to  her,  that  she  will  never 
marry,  and  becomes  quite  a  different  girl  when  a  man 
speaks  to  her,  just  as  though  she  were  afraid  of  something. 
Liubotchka  is  forever  offended  with  Mimi  because  they 
lace  her  up  so  tight  in  corsets  that  she  "  can't  breathe," 
and  she  is  fond  of  eating  ;  but  Katenka,  on  the  other  hand, 
often  thrusts  her  finger  under  the  point  of  her  bodice, 
and  shows  us  how  loose  it  is  for  her,  and  she  eats  very 
little.  Liubotchka  loves  to  draw  heads,  but  Katenka 
draws  only  flowers  and  butterflies.  Liubotchka  plays 
Field's  concertos  perfectly,  and  some  of  Beethoven's 
sonatas.  Katenka  plays  variations  and  waltzes,  retards 
the  time,  pounds,  uses  the  pedal  incessantly  ;  and  before 
she  begins  to  play  anything  she  strikes  three  arpeggio 
chords. 

But  Katenka,  according  to  my  opinion  then,  was 
much  more  like  an  adult,  and  therefore  she  pleased  me 
far  more. 

CHAPTER  XXII  " 

PAPA 

Papa  has  been  particularly  gay  since  Volodya's  en- 
trance to  the  university,  and  comes  to  dine  with  grand- 
mamma much  oftener  than  usual.  Moreover,  the  cause 
of  his  cheerfulness,  as  I  have  learned  from  Nikolaif,  con- 


i86  BOYHOOD 

sists  in  the  fact  that  he  has  won  a  remarkably  large 
amount  of  money  of  late.  It  everlT  Happens  that  he 
sometimes  comes  to  us  in  the  evening  before  going  to 
his  club,  sits  down  at  the  piano,  gathers  us  all  about 
him,  and  sings  gipsy  songs,  ^accompanying  them  by 
stamping  his  feet  ih  their  soft  bbots  (hecannot  bear  heels, 
and  never  wears  them).  And.  then  the  rapture  of  his 
favorite  Liubotchka,  on  her  '^ide,  who  adores  him,  is 
worth  seeing.  Sometimes  he  comes  to  the  school-room, 
and  listens  with  a  stern  countenance  while  I  recite  my 
lessons  ;  but  I  perceive,  from  the  occasional  words  with 
which  he  endeavors  to  set  me  right,  that  he  is  but  badly 
acquainted  with  what  I  am*  learning.  Sometimes  he 
gives  us  a  sly  wink,  and  makes  signs  to  us,  when  grand- 
mamma begins  to  grumble  and  get  into  a  rage  with  every- 
body without  cause.  ""Now  it's  our  turn  to  catch  it, 
children,"  he  says  afterwa^s.  On  the  whole,  he  has 
descended  somewhat  in  my  eyes  from  the  unapproach- 
able height  upon  which  my  childish  imagination  placed 
him.  I  kiss  his  large  white  hand,  with  the  same  feeling 
of  genuine  love  and  respect ;  but  I  already  permit  my- 
self to  think  of  him,  to  pass  judgment  on  his  acts,  and 
thoughts  occur  to  me  in  regard  to  him  which  frighten 
me.  Never  shall  I  forget  one  circumstance  which  in- 
spired many  such  thougjits  in  me,  and  caused  me  much 
moral  suffering. 

Once,   late  in  the  evening,  he  entered  the ">d rawing-^ 
room,    in    his  black  dress-coat  and  white  waistcoat,  in 
order  to  carry  off  VolodA'a  with  him  to  a  ball.     The  lat- 
ter t^s*dressing  in  his  own  room  at  the  time.     Grand- 
mother   was   ivaiting   in    her   bedroom  for  Volodya  to 
come  and  show  hirnself^to  hex  (she  had  a  habit  of  sum- 
moning him  to  bar-  paesence  before  every  ball, .to  inspect 
him,  and  to  bestow  upon  him  her  blessing  and  instruc- 
tions).    In  the  hall,  which  was  lighted  by  one  candle 
only,  Mimi  and  Katenka  were  pacing  to^and  fro  ;  but 
Liubotchka  was  seated  at  the  piano,  engaged  in  mem- - 
orizing    Field's    Second    Coqterto,    which  ^as   one   of  ^ 
mamma's  favorite  pieces.  ^         <    ")'P 

Never,  in  any  one  whatever,  have  I  met  ^yq^  an  inti- 


►j^:> 


BOYHOOD  L87 

mate  likeness  as  existed  between  my  sister  and  my 
mother.  This  likeness  consisted  not  in  face,  nor  form, 
but  in  some  intangible  quality,  —  in  her  hands,  in  her 
manner  of  walking,  in  peculiarities  of  voice,  and  in  cer- 
tain expressions.  When  Liubotchka  got  angry,  and 
said,  "  It  won't  be  allowed  for  a  whole  age,"  she  pro- 
nounced the  words,  a  ivJioIe  age,  which  mamma  was 
accustomed  to  usC;^  soC^hat  it  seemed  as  if  one  heard 
them  le4igthened,  A^ho-o-le  a-ge.  Bi!it  the  likeness  was 
still  more  remarkable  in  her  playing  on  the  piano,  and 
in  all  her  ways  connected  with  this.  She  adjusted  her 
dress  in  exactly  the  way,  and  turned  her  pages  from 
above  with  her  left  hand,,  and  pounded  the  keys  with  . 
her  fist  from  vexation  when  she  was  long  in  conquering 
a  difficult  passage,  and  said,  "Ah,  heavens!"  and  she 
had  that  same  indescribable  tenderness  and  accuracy  of  O 
execution,  that  beautiful  execution  like  Field,  which  is 
so  well  called y«//^r//,  and  whose  charm  all  the  hocus- 
pocus  of  newer  pianists  cannot  make  one  forget. 

Papa  entered  the  room  with  swift,  short  steps,  and 
went  up  to  Liubotchka,  who  stopped  playing  when  she 
saw  him.  * 

"  No,  go  on  playing,  Liuba,  go  on,"  said  he,  putting 
her  back  in  her  seat;  "you  know  how  I  love  to  hear 

Liubotchka  continued  her  playing,  and  papa  sat  oppo-  ^    • 
site   her   for   a  long  time,  supporting  his  head  on  his 
hand ;  then  he  gave  his  shoulders  a  sudden  twist,  rose,        Q 
and  began  to  pace  the  room.     Every  time  that  he  ap- 
proached the  piano,  he  paused,  and  looked  intently  at 
Liubotchka.     I  perceived,  from  his  movements  and  his 
manner  of  walking,  that  he  was  excited. .    After  travers- 
ing the  hall  several  times,  he  paused  behind  Liubotchka's 
seat,  kissed  her  black  haiK,-  and-'then,  turning  away,  he 
pursued  his  walk.     When  Liubotoshka  had  finished  her 
piece,    and  went   up  to  him  with  the  question,   "  Is  it  * 
■pretty.-*"  he  took  her  head   silently  in  his  hands,  and 
began  to  kiss  her  brow  and  eyes  with  such  tenderness 
as  I  had  never  seen  him  display. 

"Ah,  hedvens  !  you  are  weeping!"  said  Liubotchka,        •-> 


i88  BOYHOOD 

all  at  once  dropping  the  chain  of  his  watch,  and  fixing 
her  great,  surprised  eyes  on  his  face.  "  Forgive  me, 
dear  papa  ;  I  had  quite  forgotten  that  that  was  mamma's 
pieced 

"  No,  my  dear,  play  it  as  often  as  possible,"  he  said  in 
a  voice  which  quivered  with  emotion  ;  "  if  you  only  knew 
how  good  it  is  for  me  to  weep  with  you ....  " 

He  kissed  her  once  more,  and,  endeavoring  to  over- 
come his  emotion,  he  twitched  his  shoulders,  and  went 
out  of  the  door  which  led  to  the  corridor  and  Volodya's 
room. 

"Waldemar!  Will  you  be  ready  soon  .?  "  he  cried,  halt- 
ing midway  in  the  corridor.  At  that  moment,  Mascha 
the  maid  passed  him,  and,  seeing  the  master,  she  dropped 
her  eyes,  and  tried  to  avoid  him.  He  stopped  her.  "  You 
grow  prettier  and  prettier,"  he  said,  bending  over  her. 

Mascha  blushed,  and  drooped  her  head  still  lower. 
"Permit  me,"  she  whispered. 

"  Waldemar,  are  you  nearly  ready .'' "  repeated  papa, 
twitching  himself  and  coughing,  when  Mascha  passed, 
and  he  caught  sight  of  me. 

I  love  my  father ;  but  the  mind  of  man  exists  inde- 
pendently of  the  heart,  and  often  mixes  within  itself 
thoughts  which  are  insulting  to  him,  with  feelings  both 
incomprehensible  and  stern  concerning  him.  And  such 
thoughts  come  to  me,  although  I  strive  to  drive  them 
away. 

CHAPTER   XXIII 

GRANDMAMMA 

Grandmamma  grows  weaker  from  day  to  day  ;  her 
bell,  Gascha's  grumbling  voice,  and  the  slamming  of 
doors  are  heard  more  frequently  in  her  room,  and  she 
no  longer  receives  us  in  the  study  in  her  long  sofa-chair, 
but  in  her  bedroom,  in  her  high  bed  with  its  lace-trimmed 
pillows.  I  perceive,  on  saluting  her,  that  there  is  a  pale, 
yellowish,  shining  swelling  on  her  hand  and  that  oppress- 
ive odor  in  the  chamber  which  I  had  observed  five  years 


O 


BOYHOOD  189 

before  in  mamma's  room.  The  doctor  comes  to  the 
house  three  times  a  day,  and  several  consultations  have 
been  held.  But  her  character,  her  haughty  and  cere- 
monious intercourse  with  all  members  of  the  household, 
particularly  with  papa,  is  not  altered  in  the  least ;  she 
enunciates  her  words,  elevates  her  brows,  and  says,  "my 
dear,"  ^  in  exactly  the  same  manner  as  usual. 

But,  for  several  days  now,  we  have  not  been  admitted 
to  her  ;  and  once  in  the  morning  St.  Jerome  proposes  to 
me  that  I  shall  go  to  ride  with  Liubotchka  and  Katenka 
during  lesson  hours.  Although  I  notice,  as  I  take  my 
seat  in  the  sleigh,  that  the  street  in  front  of  grand- 
mamma's windows  is  strewn  with  straw,  and  that  sev- 
eral people  in  blue  overcoats  are  standing  about  our 
gate,  I  cannot  in  the  least  understand  why  I  have  been 
sent  to  ride  at  this  unusual  hour.  During  our  entire 
ride  on  that  day,  Liubotchka  and  I  are,  for  some  reason, 
in  that  particularly  cheerful  frame  of  mind  when  every 
occurrence,  every  word,  every  motion,  excites  one's 
laughter. 

A  peddler  crosses  the  road  at  a  trot,  holding  on  to  his 
tray,  and  we  laugh.  A  ragged  Vanka^  overtakes  our 
sleigh  at  a  gallop,  flourishing  the  ends  of  his  reins,  and 
we  shout  with  laughter.  Philip's  knout  has  caught  in 
the  runners  of  the  sleigh  ;  he  turns  around,  and  says, 
"Alas!"  and  we  die  with  laughter.  Mimi  remarks, 
with  a  face  of  displeasure,  that  only  stupid  people  laugh 
without  cause  ;  and  Liubotchka,  all  rosy  with  the  strain 
of  repressed  laughter,  casts  a  sidelong  glance  at  me. 
Our  eyes  meet,  and  we  break  out  into  such  Homeric 
laughter,  that  the  tears  come  to  our  eyes,  and  we  are 
unable  to  suppress  the  bursts  of  merriment  which  are 
suffocating  us.  We  have  no  sooner  quieted  down  to 
some  extent,  than  I  glance  at  Liubotchka,  and  utter  a 
private  little  word  which  has  been  in  fashion  for  some 
time  among  us,  and  which  always  calls  forth  a  laugh ; 
and  again  we  break  out. 

1  Moi  miluii,  equivalent  to  7non  cher,  and  not  always  a  term  of  endear* 
ment.  —  Tr. 

2  Cabman. 


190 


BOYHOOD 


On  our  return  home,  I  have  but  just  opened  my  mouth 
in  order  to  make  a  very  fine  grimace  at  Liubotchka,  when 
my  eyes  are  startled  by  the  black  cover  of  a  coffin  lean- 
ing against  one  half  of  our  entrance  door,  and  my  mouth 
retains  its  distorted  shape. 

"  Your  grandmother  is  dead,"  says  St.  Jerdme,  coming 
to  meet  us  with  a  pale  face. 

During  the  whole  time  that  grandmamma's  body  re- 
mains in  the  house,  I  experience  an  oppressive  feeling, 
a  fear  of  death,  as  if  the  dead  body  were  alive,  and  un- 
pleasantly reminding  me  that  I  must  die  sometime, — 
a  feeling  which  it  is  usual,  for  some  reason,  to  confound 
with  grief.  I  do  not  mourn  for  grandmamma,  and,  in 
fact,  there  can  hardly  be  any  one  who  sincerely  mourns 
her.  Although  the  house  is  full  of  mourning  visitors, 
no  one  sorrows  for  her  death,  except  one  individual, 
whose  wild  grief  impresses  me  in  an  indescribable  man- 
ner. And  this  person  is  Gascha,  the  maid.  She  goes 
off  to  the  garret,  locks  herself  up  there,  weeps  inces- 
santly, curses  herself,  tears  her  hair,  will  not  listen  to 
any  advice,  and  declares  that  death  is  the  only  consola- 
tion left  for  her  after  the  death  of  her  beloved  mistress. 

I  repeat  once  more  that  inconsistency  in  matters  of 
feeling  is  the  most  trustworthy  sign  of  genuineness. 

Grandmother  is  no  more,  but  memories  and  various  ru- 
mors about  her  still  live  in  her  house.  These  rumors  refer 
especially  to  the  will  which  she  made  before  her  end, 
and  the  contents  of  which  no  one  knows,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  her  executor,  Prince  Ivan  Ivanitch.  I  observe 
some  excitement  among  grandmamma's  people,  and  I  fre- 
quently overhear  remarks  as  to  who  will  become  whose 
property  ;  and  I  must  confess  that  I  think,  with  involun- 
tary joy,  of  the  fact  that  we  shall  receive  a  legacy. 

At  the  end  of  six  weeks,  NikolaY,  who  is  the  daily 
newspaper  of  our  establishment,  informs  me  that  grand- 
mamma has  left  all  her  property  to  Liubotchka,  intrust- 
ing the  guardianship  until  her  marriage,  not  to  papa, 
but  to  Prince  Ivan  Ivanitch. 


BOYHOOD  191 

CHAPTER   XXIV 


'''  Only  a  few  months  remain  before  my  entrance  to  the 
university.  I  am  studying  well.  I  not  only  await  my 
teachers  without  terror,  but  even  feel  a  certain  pleasure 
in  my  lessons. 

I  am  glad  that  I  can  recite  the  lesson  I  have  learned 
clearly  and  accurately.  I  am  preparing  for  the  mathe- 
matical department  ;  and  this  choice,  to  tell  the  truth, 
has  been  made  by  me  simply  because  the  words 
"  sinuses,"  "  tangents,"  "  differentials,"  "  integrals," 
and  so  forth,  please  me  extremely. 

I  am  much  shorter  of  stature  than  Volodya,  broad- 
shouldered  and  fleshy,  homely  as  ever,  and  worried 
about  it  as  usual.  I  try  to  appear  original.  One  thing 
consoles  me  ;  that  is,  that  papa  once  said  of  me  that  I 
had  a  sensible  phiz,  and  I  am  fully  convinced  of  it. 

St.  Jerome  is  satisfied  with  me  ;  and  I  not  only  do  not 
hate  him,  but,  when  he  occasionally  remarks  that  with 
my  gifts  and  my  mind  it  is  a  shame  that  I  do  not  do 
thus  and  so,  it  even  seems  to  me  that  I  love  him. 

My  observations  on  the  maids'  room  ceased  long  ago ; 
I  am  ashamed  to  hide  myself  behind  a  door,  and,  more- 
over, my  conviction  that  Mascha  loves  Vasily  has  cooled 
me  somewhat,  I  must  confess.  Vasily's  marriage,  the 
permission  for  which,  at  his  request,  I  obtain  from  papa, 
effects  a  final  cure  of  this  unhappy  passion  in  me. 

When  the  j<??/7/o-/rt'/r  come,  with  bonbons  on  a  tray, 
to  thank  papa,  and^Mascha  in  a  blue-ribboned  cap,  kiss- 
ing each  of  us  on  the  shoulder,  also  returns  thanks  to 
all  of  us  for  something  or  other,  I  am  conscious  only  of 
the  rose  pomade  on  her  hair,  but  not  of  the  least  emotion. 

On  the  whole,  I  am  beginning  gradually  to  recover 
from  my  boyish  follies  ;  with  the  exception,  however,  of 
the  chief  one,  which  is  still  fated  to  cause  me  much 
injury  in  life,  — my  tendency  to  metaphysics. 


192  BOYHOOD 

CHAPTER    XXV 

volodya's  friends 

Although  in  the  company  of  Volodya's  acquaintances 
I  played  a  role  which  wounded  my  self-love,  I  liked  to 
sit  in  his  room  when  he  had  visitors,  and  silently  observe 
all  that  took  place  there. 

The  most  frequent  of  all  Volodya's  guests  were  Adju- 
tant Dubkoff,  and  a  student,  Prince  Nekhliudoff.  Dub- 
koff  was  a  small,  muscular,  dark-complexioned  man,  no 
longer  in  his  first  youth,  and  rather  short-legged,  but 
not  bad-looking,  and  always  gay.  He  was  one  of  those 
narrow-minded  persons  to  whom  their  own  narrow- 
mindedness  is  particularly  agreeable,  who  are  not  capa- 
ble of  viewing  subjects  from  different  sides,  and  who  are 
continually  allowing  themselves  to  be  carried  away  with 
something.  The  judgment  of  such  people  is  one-sided 
and  erroneous,  but  always  open-hearted  and  captivating. 
Even  their  narrow  egotism  seems  pardonable  and  attrac- 
tive, for  some  reason.  Besides  this,  Dubkoff  possessed 
a  double  charm  for  Volodya  and  me, — a  military  ex- 
terior, and,  most  of  all,  the  age,  with  which  young 
people  have  a  habit  of  confounding  their  ideas  of  what 
is  comme  il  faut,  which  is  very  highly  prized  during 
these  years.  Moreover,  Dubkoff  really  was  what  is 
called  a  man  comme  il  faut.  One  thing  displeased  me, 
and  that  was  that  Volodya  seemed  at  times  to  be 
ashamed,  in  his  presence,  of  my  most  innocent  acts, 
and,  most  of  all,  my  youth. 

Nekhliudoff  was  not  handsome ;  little  gray  eyes,  a 
low,  rough  forehead,  disproportionately  long  arms  and 
legs,  could  not  be  called  beautiful  features.  The  only 
handsome  thing  about  him  was  his  unusually  lofty 
stature,  the  delicate  coloring  of  his  face,  and  his  very 
fine  teeth.  But  his  countenance  acquired  such  a  char- 
acter of  originality  and  energy  from  his  narrow^,  brilliant 
eyes,  and  the  expression  of  his  smile  which  changed 
from  sternness  to  childish  indefiniteness,  that  it  was 
impossible  not  to  take  note  of  him. 


BOYHOOD  193 

He  was,  it  appeared,  excessively  modest,  for  every 
trifle  made  him  flush  up  to  his  very  ears  ;  but  his  shy- 
ness did  not  resemble  mine.  The  more  he  reddened, 
the  more  determination  did  his  face  express.  He  seemed 
angry  with  himself  for  his  weakness.  Although  he 
seemed  very  friendly  with  Dubkoff  and  Volodya,  it  was 
worthy  of  note  that  chance  alone  had  connected  him 
with  them.  Their  views  were  entirely  different.  Volo- 
dya and  Dubkoff  seemed  afraid  of  everything  which 
even  resembled  serious  discussion  and  feeling ;  Nekhli- 
udoff,  on  the  contrary,  was  an  enthusiast  in  the  highest 
degree,  and  often  entered  into  discussion  of  philosophi- 
cal questions  and  of  feelings,  in  spite  of  ridicule.  Volo- 
dya and  Dubkoff  were  fond  of  talking  about  the  objects 
of  their  love  (and  they  fell  in  love  all  of  a  sudden,  with 
several,  and  both  with  the  same  persons) ;  Nekhliudoff, 
on  the  contrary,  always  became  seriously  angry  when 
they  hinted  at  his  love  for  a  little  red-haired  girl. 

Volodya  and  Dubkoff  often  permitted  themselves  to 
make  amiable  sport  of  their  relatives  ;  Nekhliudoff,  on 
the  contrary,  could  be  driven  quite  beside  himself  by  un- 
complimentary allusions  to  his  aunt,  for  whom  he  cherished 
a  sort  of  rapturous  reverence.  Volodya  and  Dubkoff  used 
to  go  off  somewhere  after  supper  without  Nekhliudoff, 
and  they  called  him  -di  pretty  little  girl. 

Prince  Nekhliudoff  impressed  me  from  the  first  by  his 
conversation  as  well  as  by  his  appearance.  But  although 
I  found  much  in  his  tastes  that  was  common  to  mine, 
—  or  perhaps  just  for  that  reason,  —  the  feeling  with 
which  he  inspired  me  when  I  saw  him  for  the  first  time 
was  extremely  hostile. 

I  was  displeased  by  his  quick  glance,  his  firm  voice, 
his  haughty  look,  but  most  of  all  by  the  utter  indiffer- 
ence toward  me  which  he  exhibited.  Often,  during  a 
conversation,  I  had  a  terrible  desire  to  contradict  him  ; 
I  wanted  to  quarrel  with  him,  to  punish  him  for  his  pride, 
to  show  him  that  I  was  sensible,  although  he  would  not 
pay  the  slightest  attention  to  me.  Diffidence  restrained 
me. 


194  BOYHOOD 

CHAPTER   XXVI 

DISCUSSIONS 

VoLODYA  was  lying  with  his  feet  on  the  divan,  and 
leaning  on  his  elbow ;  he  was  engaged  in  reading  a 
French  romance,  when  I  went  to  his  room  after  my  eve- 
ning lessons  according  to  custom.  He  raised  his  head 
for  a  second  to  glance  at  me,  and  again  turned  to  his 
reading ;  the  most  simple  and  natural  movement  possi- 
ble, but  it  made  me  blush.  It  seemed  to  me  that  his 
glance  expressed  the  question  why  I  had  come  there  ; 
and  his  hasty  bend  of  ihe  head,  a  desire  to  conceal  from 
me  the  meaning  of  the  glance.  This  tendency  to  attrib- 
ute significance  to  the  simplest  movement  constituted 
one  of  my  characteristic  traits  at  that  age.  I  walked 
up  to  the  table,  and  took  a  book ;  but  before  I  began  to 
read  it,  it  occurred  to  me  how  ridiculous  it  was  not  to 
say  anything  to  each  other,  when  we  had  not  seen  each 
other  all  day. 

"  Shall  you  be  at  home  this  evening  .-* " 

"I  don't  know.     Why.?" 

"  Because,"  said  I,  perceiving  I  could  not  start  a  con- 
versation.    I  took  my  book,  and  began  to  read. 

It  was  strange  that  Volodya  and  I  should  pass  whole 
hours  in  silence,  face  to  face,  but  that  it  required  only 
the  presence  of  a  third  person,  even  if  taciturn,  to 
start  the  most  interesting  and  varied  discussions.  We 
felt  that  we  knew  each  other  too  well ;  and  too  inti- 
mate or  too  slight  knowledge  of  each  other  prevents  ap- 
proach. 

"  Is  Volodya  at  home  ? "  said  Dubkoif's  voice  in  the 
vestibule. 

"Yes,"  said  Volodya,  lowering  his  feet,  and  laying 
his  book  on  the  table. 

Dubkoff  and  Nekhliudoff  entered  the  room  in  their 
coats  and  hats. 

"  What  do  you  say,  Volodya  ?  shall  we  go  to  the 
theater  ? " 


BOYHOOD  195 

"  No,  I  'm  busy,"  replied  Volodya,  turning  red. 

"Well,  what  an  idea!     Pray  let  us  go." 

"I  haven't  any  ticket." 

"  You  can  get  as  many  tickets  as  you  want  at  the 
entrance." 

"  Wait,  I  '11  come  directly,"  said  Volodya,  yielding,  and 
he  left  the  room  with  a  twitch  of  his  shoulders. 

I  knew  that  Volodya  wanted  very  much  to  go  to  the 
theater,  whither  Dubkoff  invited  him  ;  that  he  only  re- 
fused because  he  had  no  money ;  and  that  he  had  gone 
to  borrow  five  rubles  of  the  butler  until  his  next  instal- 
ment of  allowance  became  due. 

"How  are  you.  Diplomat?''  said  Dubkoff,  giving  me. 
his  hand. 

Volodya's  friends  called  me  the  diplomat,  because 
once,  after  a  dinner  with  my  grandmother,  in  speaking 
of  our  future,  she  had  said,  in  their  presence,  that  Volo- 
dya was  to  be  a  soldier,  and  that  she  hoped  to  see  me  a 
diplomat,  in  a  black  dress-coat,  and  with  my  hair  dressed 
a  la  coq,  which,  according  to  her  views,  constituted  an 
indispensable  part  of  the  diplomatic  profession. 

"  Where  has  Volodya  gone  .?  "  Nekhliudoff  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  replied,  reddening  at  the  thought 
that  they  probably  guessed  why  Volodya  had  quitted 
the  room. 

"  He  can't  have  any  money  !  is  that  so  ?  Oh,  Diplo- 
mat!'' he  added  with  conviction,  displaying  his  smile, 
"  I  have  n't  any  money  either  ;    have   you,  Dubkoff }  " 

"We  shall  see,"  said  Dubkoff,  pulling  out  his  purse, 
and  very  carefully  feeling  a  few  bits  of  small  change 
with  his  short  fingers.  "  Here  's  a  five-kopek  bit,  and 
here 's  a  twenty-kopek  piece,  and  f-f-f-f-u ! "  said  he, 
making  a  comical  gesture  with  his  hand. 

At  that  moment  Volodya  entered  the  room. 

"  Well,  shall  we  go  ?  " 

"No." 

"  How  ridiculous  you  are  !  "  said  Nekhliudoff.  "Why 
don't  you  say  that  you  have  n't  any  money  ?  Take  my 
ticket,  if  you  like." 

"  But  what  will  you  do  > " 


196  BOYHOOD 

"  He  will  go  to  his  cousin's  box,"  said  Dubkoff, 

"No,  I  will  not  go  at  all." 

"Why?" 

"  Because,  as  you  know,  I  don't  like  to  sit  in  a  box." 

"  Why  ? " 

"  I  don't  like  it ;  it  makes  me  feel  awkward." 

"  The  same  old  thing  again  !  I  don't  understand  how 
you  can  feel  awkward  where  every  one  is  glad  to  have 
you.     It 's  absurd,  mj  dear  fellow.'"  ^ 

"  What  am  I  to  do,  if  I  am  tiviid?^  I  am  convinced 
that  you  have  never  blushed  in  your  life,  but  I  do  it  every 
moment  for  the  veriest  trifles,"  turning  crimson  as  he 
spoke. 

"  Do  yoii  knozv  the  cause  of  your  timidity  ?  ^  An  excess 
of  self-love,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Dubkoff,  in  a  patroniz- 
ing tone. 

^^  An  excess  of  self-love}  indeed!"  said  Nekhliudoff, 
touched  to  the  quick.  "  On  the  contrary,  it  is  because 
I  have  too  little  self-love;^  it  seems  to  me  that  things 
displease  and  bore  me....  because....  " 

"  Dress  yourself,  Volodya,"  said  Dubkoff,  seizing  him 
by  the  shoulders,  and  pulling  off  his  coat.  "  Ignat,  dress 
your  master ! " 

"  Because,  it  often  happens  to  me  ....  "  went  on  Nekhliu- 
doff. 

But  Dubkoff  was  no  longer  listening  to  him.  "  Tra- 
la-ta-ra-ra-la-la,"  and  he  hummed  an  air. 

"You  have  not  escaped,"  said  Nekhliudoff;  "and  I 
will  prove  to  you  that  shyness  does  not  proceed  from 
self-love  at  all." 

"You  will  prove  it  if  you  come  with  us." 

"  I  have  said  that  I  would  not  go." 

"  Well,  stay,  then,  and  prove  it  to  the  diplomat ;  and 
he  shall  tell  us  when  we  come  back." 

"I  will  prove  it,"  retorted  Nekhliudoff,  with  childish 
obstinacy  ;  "  but  come  back  as  soon  as  you  can. 

"What  do  you  think.-'  am  I  vain.-*"  he  said,  seating 
himself  beside  me. 

Although  I  had  formed  an  opinion  on  that  point,  I  was 

^  In  French,  in  the  original.  —  Tr. 


BOYHOOD  197 

so  intimidated  by  this  unexpected  appeal,  that  I  could  not 
answer  him  very  promptly. 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,"  I  said,  feeling  that  my  voice  trem- 
bled and  the  color  covered  my  face  at  the  thought  that 
the  time  had  come  to  show  him  that  /  was  intelligent, 
—  "I  think  that  every  man  is  vain,  and  that  everything 
a  man  does  is  done  from  vanity." 

"What  is  vanity,  in  your  opinion.^"  said  Nekhliudoff, 
smiling  somewhat  disdainfully,  as  it  struck  me. 

"  Vanity ....  self-love,"  said  I,  "is  the  conviction  that 
I  am  better  and  wiser  than  anybody  else." 

"  But  how  can  everybody  entertain  that  conviction  }  " 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  I  am  correct  or  not,  but  no 
one  except  myself  confesses  to  it ;  I  am  persuaded  that 
I  am  wiser  than  any  one  in  the  world,  and  I  am  per- 
suaded that  you  are  convinced  of  the  same  thing." 

"  No,  I  am  the  first  to  say  of  myself  that  I  have  met 
people  whom  I  have  acknowledged  to  be  wiser  than  my- 
self," said  Nekhliudoff. 

"Impossible,"  I  answered,  with  conviction. 

"  Do  you  really  think  so  .-'  "  said  Nekhliudoff,  looking 
intently  at  me. 

And  then  an  idea  occurred  to  me,  to  which  I  immedi- 
ately gave  utterance. 

"  I  will  prove  it  to  you.  Why  do  we  love  ourselves 
more  than  others  .''  Because  we  consider  ourselves  bet- 
ter than  others,  more  worthy  of  love.  If  we  considered 
others  better  than  ourselves,  then  we  should  love  them 
more  than  ourselves,  and  that  never  happens.  Even  if 
it  does  happen,  I  am  right  all  the  same,"  I  added,  with 
an  involuntary  smile  of  vanity. 

Nekhliudoff  remained  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  I  never  thought  that  you  were  so  clever  ! "  he  said 
with  such  a  sweet,  good-natured  smile,  that  it  seemed  to 
me  all  at  once  that  I  was  perfectly  happy. 

Praise  acts  so  powerfully,  not  only  on  the  feelings,  but 
on  the  mind  of  man,  that  under  its  pleasant  influence  it 
seemed  to  me  that  I  became  much  more  clever,  and  ideas 
occurred  to  me  one  after  the  other  with  unusual  swift- 
ness.    From  vanity  we  passed,  without  noticing  it,  to 


198     •  BOYHOOD 

Jove  ;  and  discussion  on  this  theme  seemed  inexhaustible. 
Although  our  judgments  might  seem  utter  nonsense  to 
an  uninterested  listener,  —  so  unintelligible  and  one-sided 
were  they, — they  possessed  a  lofty  significance  for  us. 
Our  souls  were  so  agreeably  attuned  in  harmony,  that 
the  slightest  touch  upon  any  chord  in  one  found  an  echo 
in  the  other.  We  took  pleasure  in  this  mutual  echoing 
of  the  divers  chords  which  we  touched  in  our  discussion. 
It  seemed  to  us  that  time  and  words  were  lacking  to  ex- 
press to  each  other  the  thoughts  which  sought  utterance. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

THE    BEGINNING    OF    FRIENDSHIP 

From  that  time,  rather  strange  but  very  agreeable 
relations  existed  between  me  and  Dmitry  Nekhliudoff. 
In  the  presence  of  strangers,  he  paid  hardly  any  atten- 
tion to  me  ;  but  as  soon  as  we  chanced  to  be  alone,  we 
seated  ourselves  in  some  quiet  nook,  and  began  to  dis- 
cuss, forgetful  of  everything,  and  perceiving  not  how 
the  time  flew. 

We  talked  of  the  future  life,  and  of  the  arts,  and  of 
the  government  service,  and  marriage,  and  bringing  up 
children  ;  and  it  never  entered  our  heads  that  all  we  said 
was  the  most  frightful  nonsense.  It  never  occurred  to 
us,  because  the  nonsense  we  talked  was  wise  and  nice 
nonsense ;  and  in  youth  one  still  prizes  wisdom,  and 
believes  in  it.  In  youth,  all  the  powers  of  the  soul  are 
directed  toward  the  future ;  and  that  future  assumes 
such  varied,  vivid,  and  enchanting  forms  under  the  in- 
fluence of  hope,  founded,  not  upon  experience  of  the 
past,  but  upon  the  fancied  possibilities  of  happiness, 
that  the  mere  conceptions  and  dreams  of  future  bliss, 
when  shared,  form  a  genuine  happiness  at  that  age.  In 
the  metaphysical  discussions  which  formed  one  of  the 
chief  subjects  of  our  conversation,  I  loved  the  moment 
when  thoughts  succeed  each  other  more  and  more  swiftly, 
and,  growing  ever  more  abstract,  finally  attain  such  a 


BOYHOOD  199 

degree  of  mistiness  that  one  sees  no  possibility  of  ex- 
pressing them,  and,  supposing  that  one  is  saying  what 
he  thinks,  he  says  something  entirely  different.  I  loved 
the  moment  when,  soaring  higher  and  higher  into  the 
realms  of  thought,  one  suddenly  comprehends  all  its  in- 
finiteness,  and  confesses  the  impossibility  of  proceeding 
farther. 

Once,  during  the  Carnival,  Nekhliudoff  was  so  absorbed 
in  various  pleasures,  that,  although  he  came  to  the  house 
several  times  a  day,  he  never  once  spoke  to  me  ;  and 
this  so  offended  me,  that  he  again  seemed  to  me  a 
haughty  and  disagreeable  man.  I  only  waited  for  an 
opportunity  to  show  him  that  I  did  not  value  his  society 
in  the  least,  and  entertained  no  special  affection  for  him. 

On  the  first  occasion  after  the  Carnival  that  he  wanted 
to  talk  to  me,  I  said  that  I  was  obliged  to  prepare  my 
lessons,  and  went  up-stairs;  but  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
later,  some  one  opened  the  school-room  door,  and  Nekhli- 
udoff entered. 

"  Do  I  disturb  you  ?  "  said  he, 

"  No,"  I  replied,  although  I  wanted  to  say  that  I 
really  was  busy. 

"  Then  why  did  you  leave  Volodya's  room  ?  We 
have  n't  had  a  talk  for  a  long  while.  And  I  have  become 
so  used  to  it,  that  it  seems  as  if  something  were  miss- 
ing." 

My  vexation  vanished  in  a  moment,  and  Dmitry  again 
appeared  the  same  kind  and  charming  man  as  before  in 
my  eyes. 

"  You  probably  know  why  I  went  away,"  said  I. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  replied,  seating  himself  beside  me. 
"  But  if  I  guess  it,  I  cannot  say  why,  but  you  can," 
said  he. 

"  I  will  say  it  :  I  went  away  because  I  was  angry  with 
you  —  not  angry,  but  vexed.  To  speak  plainly,  I  am 
always  afraid  that  you  will  despise  me  because  I  am 
still  so  very  young." 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  have  become  so  intimate  with 
you  .'' "  he  said,  replying  to  my  confession  with  a  good- 
humored  and  sensible  smile,  — "  why  I  love  you  more 


aoo  BOYHOOD 

than  people  with  whom  I  am  better  acquainted,  and 
with  whom  I  have  more  in  common  ?  I  settled  it  at 
once.  You  have  a  wonderfully  rare  quality,  —  frank- 
ness." 

"Yes,  I  always  say  just  the  very  things  that  I  am 
ashamed  to  acknowledge,"  I  said,  confirming  him,  "but 
only  to  those  people  whom  I  can  trust," 

"  Yes  ;  but  in  order  to  trust  a  person,  one  must  be 
entirely  friendly  with  him,  and  we  are  not  friends  yet, 
Nikolas.  You  remember  that  we  discussed  friendship  ; 
in  order  to  be  true  friends,  it  is  necessary  to  trust  one 
another." 

"  To  trust  that  what  I  tell  you,  you  will  not  repeat  to 
any  one,"  said  I.  "  But  the  most  important,  the  most 
interesting  thoughts,  are  just  those  which  we  would 
not  tell  each  other  for  anything  !  " 

"  And  what  loathsome  thoughts  !  such  thoughts  that, 
if  we  knew  that  we  should  be  forced  to  acknowledge 
them,  we  should  never  have  dared  to  think  them." 

"  Do  you  know  what  idea  has  come  to  me,  Nikolas  ? " 
he  added,  rising  from  his  chair,  and  rubbing  his  hands, 
with  a  smile.  "Do  it,  and  you  will  see  how  beneficial 
it  will  be  for  both  of  us.  Let  us  give  our  word  to  con- 
fess everything  to  each  other ;  we  shall  know  each 
other,  and  we  shall  not  be  ashamed  ;  but,  in  order  that 
we  may  not  fear  strangers,  let  us  take  a  vow  never  to 
say  anything  to  anybody  about  each  other.  Let  us  do 
this." 

"  All  right,"  said  L 

And  we  actually  did  it.  What  came  of  it,  I  shall  re- 
late hereafter. 

Karr  has  said  that,  in  every  attachment,  there  are  two 
sides  :  one  loves,  while  the  other  permits  himself  to  be 
loved  ;  one  kisses,  the  other  offers  the  cheek.  This  is 
perfectly  correct  ;  and  in  our  friendship  I  kissed,  but 
Dmitry  offered  his  cheek  ;  but  he  was  also  ready  to  kiss 
me.  We  loved  equally,  because  we  knew  and  valued 
each  other ;  but  this  did. not  prevent  his  exercising  an 
influence  over  me,  and  my  submitting  to  him. 

Of  course,  under  the  influence  of  Nekhliudoff,  I  un- 


BOYHOOD  aoi 

consciously  adopted  his  view,  the  gist  of  which  con- 
sisted in  an  enthusiastic  adoration  of  the  ideal  of  virtue, 
and  in  a  belief  that  man  is  intended  constantly  to  per- 
fect himself.  Then  the  reformation  of  all  mankind,  the 
annihilation  of  all  popular  vices  and  miseries,  appeared 
a  practicable  thing.  It  seemed  very  simple  and  easy  to 
reform  one's  self,  to  acquire  all  virtues,  and  be  happy. 
But  God  only  knows  whether  these  lofty  aspirations 
of  youth  were  ridiculous,  and  who  was  to  blame  that 
they  were  not  fulfilled. 


Count  L.  N.  Tolstoi. 

From  3  daguerreotype,  1855. 


YOUTH 


CHAPTER    I 

WHAT    I    CONSIDER    THE    BEGINNING    OF    YOUTH 

I  HAVE  said  that  my  friendship  with  Dmitry  revealed 
a  new  view  of  life  to  me,  its  aims  and  bearings.  This 
view  consisted  essentially  in  the  belief  that  man's  destiny 
is  to  strive  for  moral  perfection,  and  this  perfection  is 
easy,  possible,  and  eternal.  But  hitherto  I  had  reveled 
only  in  the  discovery  of  the  new  thoughts  which  sprang 
from  this  belief,  and  in  the  construction  of  brilliant  plans 
for  a  moral  and  active  future  ;  but  my  life  went  on  in  the 
same  petty,  confused,  and  idle  fashion. 

The  philanthropic  thoughts  which  I  examined  in  my 
conversations  with  my  adored  friend  Dmitry,  zvonderful 
Mitya,  as  I  called  him  in  a  whisper  to  myself  sometimes, 
still  pleased  my  mind  only,  but  not  my  feelings.  But  the 
time  arrived  when  these  thoughts  came  into  my  head 
with  such  freshness  and  force  of  moral  discovery,  that 
I  was  alarmed  when  I  reflected  how  much  time  I  had 
wasted  in  vain  ;  and  I  wanted  to  apply  these  thoughts 
immediately,  that  very  second,  to  life,  with  the  firm 
intention  of  never  changing  them. 

And  from  that  time  I  date  the  beginning  of  youth. 
At  that  time  I  was  nearly  sixteen.  Masters  continued 
to  come  to  me.  St.  Jerome  supervised  my  studies,  and 
I  was  forced  unwillingly  to  prepare  for  the  university. 
Besides  my  studies,  my  occupations  consisted  in  solitary 
incoherent  reveries  and  meditation  ;  in  gymnastic  exer- 
cises with  a  view  to  making  myself  the  strongest  man 
in  the  world  ;  in  roaming,  without  any  definite  aim  or 
idea,  through  all  the  rooms,  and  particularly  in  the  cor- 

203 


ao4  YOUTH 

ridor  of  the  maids'  room  ;  and  in  gazing  at  myself  in  the 
mirror,  from  which  last  occupation,  by  the  way,  I  always 
desisted  with  a  heavy  feeling  of  sorrow  and  even  of  aver- 
sion. I  not  only  was  convinced  that  my  appearance  was 
plain,  but  I  could  not  even  comfort  myself  with  the  con- 
solations usual  in  such  cases.  I  could  not  say  that  my 
face  was  expressive,  intellectual,  and  noble.  There  was 
nothing  expressive  about  it ;  the  features  were  of  the 
coarsest,  most  ordinary,  and  most  homely  description. 
My  small  gray  eyes  were  stupid  rather  than  intelligent, 
particularly  when  I  looked  in  the  mirror.  There  was 
still  less  of  manliness  about  it.  Although  I  was  not  so 
diminutive  in  stature,  and  very  strong  for  my  age,  all 
my  features  were  soft,  flabby,  and  unformed.  There 
was  not  even  anything  noble  about  it ;  on  the  contrary, 
my  face  was  exactly  like  that  of  a  common  peasant 
{muzhik),  and  I  had  just  such  big  hands  and  feet;  and 
this  seemed  to  me  at  that  time  very  disgraceful. 


CHAPTER   II 

SPRING 

On  the  year  when  I  entered  the  university,  Easter 
fell  so  late  in  April  that  the  examinations  were  set  for 
St.  Thomas's  Week,^  and  I  was  obliged  to  fast  in  prep- 
aration for  the  Holy  Communion,^  and  make  my  final 
preparations,  during  Passion  Week. 

The  weather  had  been  soft,  warm,  and  clear  for  three 
days  after  the  wet  snow  which  Karl  Ivanitch  had  been 
in  the  habit  of  calling  ''  tlie  son  follotved  the  father ^ 
Not  a  lump  of  snow  was  to  be  seen  in  the  streets  ;  dirty 
paste  had  given  way  to  wet,  shining  pavements  and 
rapid  rivulets.     The  last  drops  were  thawing  from  the 

^  The  week  following  Easter  week. — Tr. 

^  At  least  one  reception  a  year  of  this  Sacrament  is  obligatory;  and  the 
usual  time  is  during  the  Great  Fast  (Lent)  liefore  Easter.  Even  those 
who  receive  it  frequently  make  a  point  of  having  one  such  reception  fall 
during  this  Great  Fast.  —  Tr. 


YOUTH  205 

roofs  in  the  sun.  The  buds  were  swelling  on  the  trees 
within  the  enclosures.  The  path  in  the  courtyard  was 
dry.  In  the  direction  of  the  stable,  past  the  frozen 
heaps  of  manure,  and  between  the  stones  about  the 
porch,  the  moss-like  grass  was  beginning  to  turn  green. 
It  was  that  particular  period  of  spring  which  acts  most 
powerfully  upon  the  soul  of  man,  —  the  clear,  full,  brill- 
iant but  not  hot  sun,  the  brooks  and  snow-bare  places, 
perfumed  freshness  in  the  air,  and  the  tender  blue  sky, 
with  its  long  transparent  clouds.  I  do  not  know  why, 
but  it  seems  to  me  that  the  influence  of  this  first  period 
of  birth  of  the  spring  is  even  more  powerful  and  percep- 
tible in  a  great  city  ;  one  sees  less,  but  foresees  more. 
I  stood  by  the  window,  through  whose  double  frames 
the  morning  sun  cast  dusty  rays  of  light  upon  the  floor 
of  the  school-room  which  bored  me  so  intolerably,  solv- 
ing a  long  algebraic  equation  on  the  blackboard.  In 
one  hand  I  held  a  soft,  tattered  copy  of  Franker's  Alge- 
bra, in  the  other  a  small  bit  of  chalk,  with  which  I  had 
already  smeared  both  hands,  my  face,  and  the  elbows 
of  my  coat.  Nikolai",  wearing  an  apron,  and  with  his 
sleeves  rolled  up,  was  chipping  off  the  cement,  and  ex- 
tracting the  nails  of  the  window  which  opened  on  the 
front  yard.  His  occupation,  and  the  noise  he  made, 
distracted  my  attention.  Besides,  I  was  in  a  very  evil 
and  dissatisfied  state  of  mind.  Nothing  would  go  right 
with  me.  I  had  made  a  mistake  at  the  beginning  of  my 
calculation,  so  that  I  had  had  to  begin  all  over  again.  I 
had  dropped  the  chalk  twice.  I  was  conscious  that  my 
hands  and  face  were  dirty.  The  sponge  had  disap- 
peared somewhere  or  other ;  the  noise  which  Nikolai 
made  shook  my  nerves  painfully.  I  wanted  to  get  into 
a  rage,  and  growl.  I  flung  aside  the  chalk  and  algebra, 
and  began  to  pace  the  room.  But  I  remembered  that 
to-day  I  must  go  to  confession,  and  that  I  must  refrain 
from  all  evil  ;  and  all  at  once  I  fell  into  a  peculiar,  gen- 
tle mood,  and  approached  Nikolai'. 

"  Permit  me  ;  I  will  help  you,  Nikolai,''  said  I,  try- 
ing to  impart  the  gentlest  of  tones  to  my  voice.  The 
thought  that  I  was  behaving  well,  stifling  my  vexation. 


2o6  YOUTH 

and  helping  him,  heightened  this  gentle  disposition  of 
mind  still  further. 

The  cement  was  cut  away,  the  nails  removed  ;  but 
although  Nikolai  tugged  at  the  cross-frame  with  all  his 
might,  the  frame  would  not  yield. 

"  If  the  frame  comes  out  immediately  now,  when  I 
pull  on  it,"  I  thought,  "  it  will  signify  that  it  is  a  sin, 
and  that  I  need  not  do  any  more  work  to-day."  The 
frame  leaned  to  one  side,  and  came  out. 

"  Where  is  it  to  be  carried  ?  "  said  I. 

"  If  you  please,  I  will  take  care  of  it  myself,"  replied 
Nikolai',  evidently  amazed  and  seemingly  displeased  with 
my  zeal ;  "  it  must  not  be  mixed  up,  but  they  belong  in 
the  garret  in  my  room." 

"I  will  mark  it,"  said  I,  lifting  the  frame. 

It  seems  to  me  that  if  the  garret  were  two  versts 
away,  and  the  window-frame  were  twice  as  heavy,  I 
should  be  very  much  pleased.  I  wanted  to  exhaust  my- 
self by  performing  this  service  for  Nikolaif.  When  I 
returned  to  the  room,  the  tiles  and  the  cones  of  salt  ^ 
were  already  transferred  to  the  window-sills,  and  Niko- 
lai', with  a  wing,  had  brushed  off  the  sand  and  drowsy 
flies  through  the  open  window.  The  fresh,  perfumed 
air  had  already  entered  and  filled  the  room.  From  the 
window. the  hum  of  the  city  and  the  twittering  of  the 
sparrows  in  the  yard  were  audible. 

Every  object  was  brilliantly  illuminated  ;  the  room 
had  grown  cheerful ;  the  light  spring  breeze  fluttered 
the  leaves  of  my  algebra,  and  Nikolai's  hair.  I  ap- 
proached the  window,  sat  down  in  it,  bent  toward  the 
yard,  and  began  to  think. 

A  certain  new,  exceedingly  powerful,  and  pleasant 
sensation  penetrated  my  soul  all  at  once.  The  wet 
earth,    through    which,    here   and    there,    bright    green 

*  In  order  to  aid  the  sand,  which  is  placed  between  the  double  windows 
to  absorb  dampness,  little  cones  of  salt  two  or  three  inches  high  are  added, 
about  three  to  a  window.  The  salt  is  put  into  little  paper  molds  while 
damp,  to  give  it  this  conical  form,  and  the  molds  are  sometimes  left  also. 
Tiles  or  little  Ijricks  are  often  added,  like  cases,  between  the  salt,  for  orna- 
ment; and  provincial  esthetes  frequently  add  or  substitute  little  bunches 
of  artificial  flowers.  —  Tr. 


YOUTH  aoy 

spears  of  grass  with  yellow  stalks  pushed  their  way  ; 
the  rivulets,  sparkling  in  the  sun,  and  whirling  along 
little  clods  of  earth  and  shavings ;  and  reddening  twigs 
of  syringa  with  swollen  buds  which  undulate  just  beneath 
the  window;  the  anxious  twittering  of  the  birds  throng- 
ing this  bush  ;  the  blackish  hedge  wet  with  the  melted 
snow  :  but  chiefly  the  damp,  fragrant  air  and  cheerful 
sun,  —  spoke  to  me  intelligibly,  clearly,  of  something 
new  and  very  beautiful,  which,  though  I  cannot  repro- 
duce it  as  it  told  itself  to  me,  I  shall  endeavor  to  repeat 
as  I  received  it :  everything  spoke  to  me  of  beauty,  hap- 
piness, and  virtue,  said  that  both  were  easy  and  possible 
to  me,  that  one  could  not  exist  without  the  other,  and 
even  that  beauty,  happiness,  and  virtue  are  one  and  the 
same.  "  How  could  I  fail  to  understand  this  ?  How 
wicked  I  was  before  !  How  happy  I  might  have  been, 
and  how  happy  I  may  be  in  the  future  !  "  I  said  to  my- 
self. "  I  must  become  another  man  as  quickly,  as 
quickly,  as  possible,  this  very  moment,  and  begin  to 
live  differently."  But,  in  spite  of  this,  I  still  sat  for  a 
long  time  in  the  window,  dreaming  and  doing  nothing. 
Has  it  ever  happened  to  you,  in  summer,  to  lie  down  to 
sleep,  during  the  daytime,  in  gloomy,  rainy  weather,  and, 
waking  up  at  sunset,  to  open  your  eyes,  to  catch  sight 
through  the  wide  square  window,  from  under  the  linen 
shade  which  swells  and  beats  its  stick  against  the  win- 
dow-sill, of  the  shady,  purpling  side  of  the  linden  alley, 
wet  with  rain,  and  the  damp  garden  walks,  illuminated 
by  the  bright,  slanting  rays  ;  suddenly  to  catch  the  sound 
of  merry  life  among  the  birds  in  the  garden,  and  to  see 
the  insects  which  are  circling  in  the  window  aperture, 
transparent  in  the  sun,  and  become  conscious  of  the 
fragrance  of  the  air  after  rain,  and  to  think,  "  How 
shameful  of  me  to  sleep  away  such  an  evening  ! "  and 
then  to  spring  up  in  haste,  in  order  to  go  to  the  garden 
and  rejoice  in  life.-'  If  this  has  happened  to  you,  then 
that  is  a  specimen  of  the  powerful  feeling  which  I  ex 
perienced  then. 


2o8  YOUTH 

CHAPTER    III 

REVERIES 

"To-day  I  shall  confess,  I  shall  purify  myself  of  all 
my  sins,"  I  thought,  "  and  I  shall  never  commit  any 
more."  (Here  I  recalled  all  the  sins  which  troubled 
me  most.)  "I  shall  go  to  church,  without  fail,  every 
Sunday,  and  afterwards  I  shall  read  the  Gospels  for  a 
whole  hour  ;  and  then,  out  of  the  white  bank-bill  which 
I  shall  receive  every  month  when  I  enter  the  university, 
I  will  be  sure  to  give  two  rubles  and  a  half  (one-tenth) 
to  the  poor,  and  in  such  a  manner  that  no  one  shall  know 
it — and  not  to  beggars,  but  I  will  seek  out  poor  people, 
an  orphan  or  old  woman,  whom  no  one  knows  about. 

"  I  shall  have  a  room  to  myself  (probably  St.  Jerome's), 
and  I  shall  take  care  of  it  myself,  and  keep  it  wonderfully 
clean  ;  and  I  shall  leave  the  man  nothing  to  do  for  me, 
for  he  is  just  the  same  as  I  am.  Then  I  shall  go  every 
day  to  the  university  on  foot  (and  if  they  give  me  a 
drozhky,  I  shall  sell  it,  and  give  that  money  also  to  the 
poor),  and  I  shall  do  everything  with  the  greatest  pre- 
cision. (What  this  "everything  "  was,  I  could  not  have 
told,  in  the  least,  then  ;  but  I  vividly  realized  and  felt 
that  this  "  everything  "  meant  an  intellectual,  moral,  and 
irreproachable  life.)  "I  shall  prepare  my  lectures,  and 
even  go  over  the  subjects  beforehand,  so  that  I  shall 
be  at  the  head  in  the  first  course,  and  write  the  dis- 
sertation ;  in  the  second  course,  I  shall  know  every- 
thing beforehand,  and  they  can  transfer  me  directly  to 
the  third  course,  so  that  at  eighteen  I  shall  graduate 
as  first  candidate,  with  two  gold  medals  ;  then  I  shall 
stand  my  examination  for  the  degree  of  Master,  then 
Doctor,  and  I  shall  become  the  leading  savant  in  Rus- 
sia ;  I  may  be  the  most  learned  man  in  Europe,  even." 
"Well,  and  afterwards.-*"  I  asked  myself.  But  here  I 
remembered  that  these  were  dreams,  — pride,  sin,  which 
I  should  have  to  recount  to  the  priest  that  evening  ;  and 
I  went  back  to  the  beginning  of  my  argument.      "  As  a 


YOUTH  209 

preparation  for  my  lectures,  I  will  walk  out  to  the  Spar- 
row Hills  ;  ^  there  I  will  select  a  spot  beneath  a  tree,  and 
read  over  the  lesson.  Sometimes  I  shall  take  something 
to  eat  with  me,  cheese  or  cakes  from  Pedotti,  or  some- 
thing. I  shall  rest  myself,  and  then  I  shall  read  some 
good  book,  or  sketch  views,  or  play  on  some  instrument 
(I  must  not  fail  to  learn  to  play  the  flute).  Then  sJie 
will  also  take  a  walk  on  the  Sparrow  Hills,  and  some 
day  she  will  come  up  to  me  and  ask  who  I  am.  And  I 
shall  look  at  her  so  mournfully,  and  say  that  I  am  the 
son  of  a  priest,  and  that  I  am  happy  only  here  when  I 
am  alone,  quite,  quite  alone.  Then  she  will  give  me 
her  hand,  and  say  something,  and  sit  down  beside  me. 
Thus  we  shall  come  there  every  day,  and  we  shall  become 
friends,  and  I  shall  kiss  her.  —  No,  that  is  not  well ;  on 
the  contrary,  from  this  day  forth,  I  shall  never  more 
look  at  a  woman.  Never,  never  will  I  go  into  the 
maids'  room,  I  will  try  not  to  pass  by  it  even  ;  and  in 
three  years  I  shall  be  free  from  guardianship,  and  I 
shall  marry,  without  fail.  I  shall  take  as  much  exercise 
as  possible  with  gymnastics  every  day,  so  that  when  I 
am  twenty-five  I  shall  be  stronger  than  Rappeau.  The 
first  day,  I  will  hold  half  a  pood^  in  my  outstretched 
hand  for  five  minutes  ;  on  the  second  day,  twenty-one 
pounds  ;  on  the  third  day,  twenty-two  pounds,  and  so 
on,  so  that  at  last  I  can  support  four  poods  in  each 
hand,  and  I  shall  be  stronger  than  all  the  men-servants  ; 
and  when  any  one  undertakes  to  insult  me,  or  express 
himself  disrespectfully  of  her,  I  will  take  him  thus,  quite 
simply,  by  the  breast,  i  will  lift  him  an  arshin  or  two 
from  the  ground  with  one  hand,  and  only  hold  him  long 
enough  to  let  him  feel  my  power,  and  then  I  will  release 
him.  —  But  this  is  not  well :  no,  I  will  not  do  him  any 
harm,  I  will  only  show  him ....  " 

Reproach  me  not  because  the  dreams  of  youth  were 
as  childish  as  the  dreams  of  childhood  and  boyhood.  I 
am  convinced  that  if  I  am  fated  to  live  to  extreme  old 
age,  and  my  story  follows  my  growth,  as  an  old  man  of 
seventy  I  shall  dream  in  exactly  the  same  impossibly 

1  Hills  near  Moscow.  —  Tr.  2  About  twenty  pounds.  —  Tr. 


2IO  YOUTH 

childish  way  as  now.  I  shall  dream  of  some  charming 
Marie,  who  will  fall  in  love  with  me  as  a  toothless  old 
man,  as  she  loved  Mazeppa;^  of  how  my  weak-minded 
son  will  suddenly  become  a  Minister  through  some  un- 
usual circumstance ;  or  of  how  a  treasure  of  millions 
will  fall  to  me  all  of  a  sudden".  I  am  convinced  that 
there  is  no  human  being  or  age  which  is  deprived  of  this 
beneficent,  comforting  capacity  for  dreaming.  But,  ex- 
clusive of  the  general  traits  of  impossibility, — the  witch- 
craft of  reverie,  —  the  dreams  of  each  man  and  of  each 
stage  of  growth  possess  their  own  distinctive  character. 
During  that  period  of  time  which  I  regard  as  the  limit 
of  boyhood  and  the  beginning  of  youth,  four  sentiments 
formed  the  foundation  of  my  dreams  :  love  for  Jicr,  the 
ideal  woman,  of  whom  I  thought  always  in  the  same 
strain,  and  whom  I  expected  to  meet  somewhere  at  any 
moment.  This  sJie  was  a  little  like  Sonitchka ;  a  little 
like  Mascha,  Vasily's  wife,  when  she  washes  the  clothes 
in  the  tub ;  and  a  little  like  the  woman  with  pearls  on 
her  white  neck,  whom  I  saw  in  the  theater  very  long 
ago,  in  the  box  next  to  ours.  The  second  sentiment 
was  love  of  love.  I  wanted  to  have  every  one  know 
and  love  me.  I  wanted  to  pronounce  my  name,  Nikolai' 
Irteneff,  and  have  every  one,  startled  by  this  information, 
surround  me,  and  thank  me  for  something.  The  third 
feeling  was  the  hope  of  some  remarkable,  glorious  good 
fortune,  —  so  great  and  firm  that  it  would  border  on 
madness.  I  was  so  sure  that  I  should  become  the 
greatest  and  most  distinguished  man  in  the  world  very 
soon,  in  consequence  of  some-  extraordinary  circum- 
stance or  other,  that  I  found  myself  constantly  in  a  state 
of  agitated  expectation  of  something  enchantingly  bliss- 
ful. I  was  always  expecting  that  it  was  about  to  begin, 
and  that  I  was  on  the  point  of  attaining  whatever  a  man 
may  desire  ;  and  I  was  always  hastening  about  in  all 
directions,  supposing  that  it  was  already  beginning  in 
the  place  where  I  was  not.  The  fourth  apd  principal 
feeling  was  disgust  at  myself,  and  remorse,  but  a  remorse 
so  mingled  with  hope  of  bliss  that  there  was  nothing 

1  An  allusion  to  Pushkin's  poem,  "  Poltava." — Tr. 


YOUTH  211 

sorrowful  about  it.  It  seemed  to  me  so  easy  and  natural 
to  tear  myself  away  from  all  the  past,  to  reconstruct,  to 
forget  everything  which  had  been,  and  to  begin  my  life 
with  all  its  relations  quite  anew,  that  the  past  neither 
weighed  upon  nor  fettered  me.  I  even  took  pleasure  in 
my  repugnance  to  the  past,  and  began  to  see  it  in  more 
somber  colors  than  it  had  possessed.  The  blacker  was 
the  circle  of  memories  of  the  past,  the  purer  and  brighter 
did  the  pure,  bright  point  of  the  present  and  the  rainbow 
hues  of  the  future  stand  out  in  relief  against  it.  This 
voice  of  remorse  and  of  passionate  desire  for  perfection 
was  the  chief  new  spiritual  sentiment  at  that  epoch  of 
my  development ;  and  it  marked  a  new  era  in  my  views 
with  regard  to  myself,  to  people,  and  the  world.  That 
beneficent,  cheering  voice  has,  since  then,  so  often  boldly 
been  raised,  in  those  sad  hours  when  the  soul  has  silently 
submitted  to  the  weight  of  life's  falsehood  and  vice, 
against  every  untruth,  maliciously  convicting  the  past, 
pointing  to  the  bright  spot  of  the  present  and  making 
one  love  it,  and  promising  good  and  happiness  in  the 
future,  —  the  blessed,  comforting  voice  !  Is  it  possible 
that  thou  wilt  ever  cease  to  sound  ? 


CHAPTER    IV 

OUR    FAMILY    CIRCLE 

Papa  was  seldom  at  home  that  spring.  But  when  it 
did  happen,  he  was  extremely  gay  ;  he  rattled  off  his 
favorite  pieces  on  the  piano,  made  eyes  and  invented 
jests  about  Mimi  and  all  of  us,  such  as  that  the  Tsare- 
vitch  of  Georgia  had  seen  Mimi  out  riding,  and  had 
fallen  so  much  in  love  that  he  had  sent  a  petition  to 
the  Synod  for  a  divorce,  and  that  I  had  been  appointed 
assistant  to  the  ambassador  to  Vienna,  —  and  he  com- 
municated this  news  with  a  sober  face,  —  and  frightened 
Katenka  with  spiders,  which  she  was  afraid  of.  He  was 
very  gracious  to  our  friends  Dubkoff  and  Nekhliudoff, 


112  YOUTH 

and  was  constantly  telling  us  and  visitors  his  plans  for 
the  coming  year.  Although  these  plans  were  changed 
nearly  every  day,  and  contradicted  each  other,  they  were 
so  attractive  that  we  listened  to  them  eagerly,  and  Liu- 
botchka  stared  straight  at  papa's  mouth,  never  winking 
lest  she  should  lose  a  single  word.  Now  the  plan  con- 
sisted in  leaving  us  in  Moscow  at  the  university,  and 
going  to  Italy  with  Liubotchka  for  two  years,  —  again, 
he  was  going  to  purchase  an  estate  in  the  Crimea,  on 
the  southern  shore,  and  go  there  every  summer,  —  then, 
he  intended  to  remove  to  Petersburg  with  the  whole 
family,  and  so  forth.  But  another  change  had  taken 
place  of  late  in  papa,  besides  his  remarkable  gayety, 
which  greatly  surprised  me.  He  had  got  himself  some 
fashionable  clothes, —  an  olive-colored  coat,  fashionable 
trousers  with  straps,  and  a  long  overcoat  which  became 
him  extremely,  —  and  he  was  often  deliciously  scented 
with  perfumes  when  he  went  anywhere,  and  particularly 
to  one  lady  of  whom  Mimi  never  spoke  except  with  a 
sigh,  and  with. a  face  on  which  one  might  have  read  the 
words,  "  Poor  orphans  !  An  unfortunate  passion.  It  is 
well  that  s/ie  is  no  more,"  and  so  on.  I  learned  from 
Nikolai  (for  papa  never  told  us  about  his  gambling 
affairs)  that  he  had  been  very  lucky  in  play  that  win- 
ter ;  he  had  won  a  dreadfully  large  sum  at  f/wmdre,  and 
did  not  want  to  play  any  that  spring.  Probably  this 
was  the  reason  that  he  was  so  anxious  to  go  to  the 
country  as  soon  as  possible,  lest  he  should  not  be  able 
to  restrain  himself.  He  even  decided  not  to  await  my 
entrance  to  the  university,  but  to  go  off  immediately 
after  Easter  to  Petrovskoe  with  the  girls,  whither 
Volodya  and  I  were  to  follow  him  later  on. 

Volodya  had  been  inseparable  from  Dubkoff  all  winter 
and  even  until  the  spring  (but  they  and  Dmitry  began 
to  treat  each  other  rather  coldly).  Their  chief  pleasures, 
so  far  as  I  could  judge  from  the  conversations  which  I 
heard,  consisted  in  drinking  champagne  incessantly, 
driving  in  a  sleigh  past  the  windows  of  young  ladies 
with  whom  they  were  both  in  love,  and  dancing  vis-d-vis, 
not  at  children's  balls  any  more,  but  at  real  balls. 


YOUTH  113 

This  last  circumstance  caused  a  great  separation  be- 
tween Volodya  and  me,  although  we  loved  each  other. 
We  were  conscious  that  the  difference  was  too  great 
between  the  boy  to  whom  teachers  still  came,  and  the 
man  who  danced  at  great  balls,  to  allow  of  our  making 
up  our  minds  to  share  our  thoughts.  Katenka  was 
already  quite  grown  up,  read  a  great  many  romances, 
and  the  thought  that  she  might  soon  marry  no  longer 
seemed  a  joke  to  me  ;  but  although  Volodya  was  grown 
up  also,  they  did  not  associate,  and  it  even  seemed  as 
though  they  despised  each  other.  Generally,  when 
Katenka  was  alone  at  home,  nothing  interested  her  but 
romances,  and  she  was  bored  most  of  the  time  ;  but 
when  strange  men  came,  she  became  very  lively  and 
charming,  made  eyes  at  them,  and  what  she  meant  to 
express  by  this  I  could  not  in  the  least  understand. 
Only  later,  when  I  learned  from  her  in  conversation  that 
the  only  coquetry  permitted  to  a  girl  is  this  coquetry  of 
the  eyes,  could  I  explain  to  myself  the  strange,  un- 
natural grimaces  of  the  eyes,  which  did  not  seem  to 
surprise  other  people  at  all.  Liubotchka  also  had  be- 
gun to  wear  dresses  which  were  almost  long,  so  that  her 
crooked  legs  were  hardly  visible  at  all  ;  but  she  cried  as 
much  as  ever.  She  no  longer  dreamed  now  of  marry- 
ing a  hussar,  but  a  singer  or  a  musician  ;  and  to  this 
end  she  busied  herself  diligently  with  music.  St. 
Jerome,  who  knew  that  he  was  to  remain  in  the  house 
only  until  the  conclusion  of  my  examinations,  had  found 
a  situation  with  some  Count,  and  from  that  time  forth 
looked  upon  our  household  rather  disdainfully.  He  was 
seldom  at  home,  took  to  smoking  cigarettes,  which  were 
then  the  height  of  dandyism,  and  was  incessantly  whis- 
tling merry  airs  through  a  card.  Mimi  became  more 
bitter  every  day,  and  it  seemed  as  though  she  did  not 
expect  any  good  from  any  one  of  us  from  the  time  we 
were  grown  up. 

When  I  came  down  to  dinner,  I  found  only  Mimi, 
Katenka,  Liubotchka,  and  St.  Jerome  in  the  dining- 
room  ;  papa  was  not  at  home,  and  Volodya,  who  was 
preparing  for  examination,  was  with  his  comrades  in  his 


214  YOUTH 

room,  and  had  ordered  his  dinner  to  be  served  there.  Ot 
late,  Mimi,  whom  none  of  us  respected,  had  taken  the 
head  of  the  table  most  of  the  time,  and  dinner  lost  much 
of  its  charm.  Dinner  was  no  longer,  as  in  mamma's  day, 
and  grandmamma's,  a  kind  of  ceremony  which  united  the 
whole  family  at  a  certain  hour,  and  divided  the  day  into 
two  halves.  We  permitted  ourselves  to  be  late,  to  come 
in  at  the  second  course,  to  drink  wine  from  tumblers  (St. 
J6r6me  himself  set  the  example  on  this  point),  to  lounge 
on  our  chairs,  to  go  off  before  dinner  was  over,  and  simi- 
lar liberties.  From  that  moment  dinner  ceased  to  be,  as 
formerly,  a  joyous,  daily  family  solemnity.  It  was  quite 
another  thing  at  Petrovskoe,  where  all,  freshly  washed 
and  dressed  for  dinner,  seated  themselves  in  the  draw- 
ing-room at  two  o'clock,  and  chatted  merrily  while  wait- 
ing for  the  appointed  hour.  Just  as  the  clock  in  the 
butler's  pantry  squeaks  preparatory  to  striking  two, 
Foka  enters  softly,  a  napkin  on  his  arm,  and  with  a 
dignified  and  rather  stern  countenance.  "  Dinner  is 
ready  !  "  he  says  in  a  loud,  drawling  voice  ;  and  all  go 
to  the  dining-room,  the  elder  people  in  front,  the  young 
ones  behind,  with  gay,  contented  faces ;  rattling  their 
starched  skirts,  and  squeaking  their  shoes,  and  softly 
talking,  they  seat  themselves  in  their  familiar'^iplaces. 
And  it  used  to  be  very  different  in  Moscow,  where  all 
stood  softly  talking  before  the  table,  waiting  for  grand- 
mamma, —  and  Gavrilo  has  already  gone  to  announce 
to  her  that  dinner  is  served  ;  all  at  once  the  door  opens, 
the  rustle  of  a  dress  and  the  sound  of  feet  become 
audible,  and  grandmamma  swims  out  of  her  chamber, 
in  a  remarkable  cap  with  lilac  ribbons  and  all  on  one 
side,  smiling  or  scowling  darkly  (according  to  the  state 
of  her  health).  Gavrilo  rushes  to  her  chair,  the  chairs 
rattle,  and  with  a  feeling  of  cold  trickling  down  your 
spine  —  a  forerunner  of  appetite  —  you  take  your  rather 
damp,  starched  napkin,  devour  your  crust  of  bread,  and, 
rubbing  your  hands  under  the  table  with  impatient  and 
joyous  greediness,  you  gaze  at  the  steaming  tureen  of 
soup,  which  the  butler  dispenses  according  to  rank,  age, 
and  grandmamma's  ideas. 


YOUTH  215 

I  no  longer  experienced  any  such  joy  or  emotion 
when  I  came  to  dinner. 

The  chatter  between  Mimi,  St.  Jerome,  and  the  girls 
about  the  frightful  shoes  which  the  Russian  teacher 
wears,  and  about  the  young  Princesses  Kornakoff's 
flounced  dresses,  and  so  on, — that  chatter  which 
formerly  inspired  me  with  genuine  contempt,  which  I 
did  not  even  try  to  conceal  so  far  as  Liubotchka  and 
Katenka  were  concerned, — -did  not  withdraw  me  from 
my  new  and  virtuous  frame  of  mind.  I  wa.".  unusually 
gentle  ;  I  listened  to  them  with  a  peculiarly  courteous 
smile,  respectfully  asked  to  have  the  kvas  passed  to  me, 
and  agreed  with  St.  Jerome  when  he  corrected  me  for  a 
phrase  which  I  had  used  before  dinner,  and  told  me  that 
it  was  more  elegant  to  ?,?Ly  j'e  puis  tha.n  j'e  peux.  But  I 
must  confess  that  it  rather  displeased  me  to  find  no  one 
paid  any  special  attention  to  my  gentleness  and  amia- 
bility. After  dinner  Liubotchka  showed  me  a  paper  on 
which  she  had  written  down  all  her  sins  ;  I  thought  that 
very  fine,  but  that  it  would  be  still  better  to  inscribe 
one's  sins  in  one's  soul,  and  that  "all  that  was  not  quite 
the  thing  to  do." 

"  Whv  not .''  "  asked  Liubotchka, 

*'  Well,  but  this  is  all  right  also  ;  you  don't  understand 
me."  And  I  went  up-stairs  to  my  own  room,  telling  St. 
J6r6me  that  I  was  going  to  occupy  myself  until  time  to 
go  to  confession,  which  was  an  hour  and  a  half  off  yet, 
with  writing  out  a  list  of  my  duties  and  occupations  for 
my  whole  life,  and  laying  out  on  paper  the  aim  of  my 
life,  and  the  rules  by  which  I  was  always  to  act  without 
any  deviation. 

CHAPTER   V 

RULES 

I  PROCURED  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  wanted  first  of  all  to 
set  about  a  list  of  my  duties  and  occupations  for  the 
coming  year.  For  this  the  paper  must  be  ruled  ;  but  as 
I  had  not  the  ruler  by  me,  I  used  the  Latin  dictionary 


2x6  YOUTH 

for  that  purpose.  When  I  drew  the  pen  along  the  die- 
tionary,  and  then  moved  that  back,  it  appeared  that  in- 
stead of  a  line  I  had  made  a  long  puddle  of  ink  on  the 
paper ;  besides,  the  dictionary  was  shorter  than  the 
paper,  and  the  line  curved  around  its  soft  corner.  I 
took  another  piece  of  paper,  and  by  moving  the  lexicon 
I  managed  to  draw  the  line  after  a  fashion.  Separating 
my  duties  into  three  classes,  —  duties  to  myself,  to  my 
neighbor,  and  to  God,  —  I  began  to  write  down  the  first ; 
but  they  turned  out  to  be  so  numerous,  and  of  so  many 
kinds  and  subdivisions,  that  it  was  necessary  to  write 
first,  "  Rules  of  Life,"  and  then  to  set  about  making  a 
list  of  them,  I  took  six  sheets  of  paper,  sewed  them 
into  a  book,  and  wrote  at  the  top,  "  Rules  of  Life." 
These  words  were  so  crookedly  and  unevenly  written 
that  I  pondered  for  a  long  while  whether  I  should  not 
write  them  over ;  and  I  worried  long  as  I  looked  at  the 
tattered  list,  and  this  deformed  heading.  Why  does 
everything  which  was  so  beautiful  and  clean  in  my  soul 
turn  out  so  repulsive  on  paper,  and  in  life  generally, 
when  I  want  to  put  in  practice  any  of  the  things  which 
I  think  > 

"  The  confessor  has  arrived ;  please  come  down-stairs 
to  listen  to  the  precepts,"  Nikolai'  came  to  announce. 

I  hid  my  blank-book  in  the  table,  looked  in  the  glass, 
brushed  my  hair  up,  which,  in  my  opinion,  gave  me  a 
thoughtful  look,  and  went  to  the  boudoir,  where  stood  a 
covered  table  with  the  images  and  the  wax  candles  for 
sacramental  preparation.  Papa  entered  by  another  door 
at  the  same  time  as  myself.  The  confessor,  a  gray- 
haired  monk  with  a  stern,  aged  face,  gave  papa  his  bless- 
ing. Papa  kissed  his  small,  broad,  dry  hand  ;  I  did  the 
same. 

"  Call  Waldemar,"  said  papa  ;  •'*  where  is  he  ?  But 
no,  he  is  making  his  fasting  preparation  and  confession 
at  the  university." 

"  He  is  engaged  with  the  prince,"  said  Katenka,  and 
looked  at  Liubotchka.  Liubotchka  suddenly  blushed, 
frowned  for  some  reason,  pretended  that  she  felt  ill, 
and  quitted  the  room.     I  followed  her.     She  paused  in 


YOUTH  217 

the  drawing-room,  and  wrote  something  more  on  her 
paper. 

"What,  have  you  committed  a  fresh  sin?"  I  asked. 

"  No,  it 's  nothing,"  she  replied,  turning  red. 

At  that  moment  Dmitry's  voice  became  audible  in 
the  anteroom,  as  he  took  leave  of  Volodya. 

"Everything  is  a  temptation  to  you,"  said  Katenka, 
entering  the  room,  and  addressing  Liubotchka. 

I  could  not  understand  what  had  happened  to  my 
sister ;  she  was  so  confused  that  tears  rose  to  her  eyes, 
and  her  agitation,  attaining  the  highest  point,  passed 
into  anger  at  herself  and  Katenka,  who  was  evidently 
teasing  her. 

"  It 's  plain  that  you  are  2i  foreigner  [nothing  could  be 
more  insulting  to  Katenka  than  the  appellation  of  "for- 
eigner," and  therefore  Liubotchka  made  use  of  it] : 
before  such  a  sacrament,"  she  continued,  with  dignity 
in  her  voice,  "  and  you  are  distracting  me  intentionally ; 
you  ought  to  understand  that  this  is  not  a  jest  at  all." 

"Do  you  know  what  she  has  written,  Nikolenka  .<* " 
said  Katenka,  offended  by  the  word  "foreigner."  "  She 
has  written ....  " 

"  I  did  not  expect  that  you  would  be  so  malicious," 
said  Liubotchka,  breaking  down  completely,  and  leav- 
ing us.  "  She  leads  me  into  sin,  and  on  purpose,  at 
such  a  moment.  I  do  not  bother  you  with  your  feel- 
ings and  sufferings." 


CHAPTER  VI 

CONFESSION 

With  these  and  other  similar  distracting  thoughts,  I 
returned  to  the  boudoir,  when  all  were  assembled  there, 
and  the  confessor,  rising,  prepared  to  read  the  prayer 
before  confession.  But  as  soon  as  the  stern,  expressive 
voice  of  the  monk  resounded  amid  the  universal  silence, 
and  especially  when  he  addressed  us  with  the  words, 
"  Disclose  all  your  sins  zvithout  shame,  fear,  or  secrecy^ 


21 8  YOUTH 

and  your  soul  shall  be  purified  before  God ;  but  if  ye 
conceal  aiigJit,  so  shall  ye  have  greater  siti,'"  the  feeling 
of  devout  agitation  which  I  had  felt  on  the  preceding 
morning,  at  the  thought  of  the  coming  sacrament,  re- 
turned to  me.  I  even  took  pleasure  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  this  state,  and  tried  to  retain  it,  putting  a  stop 
to  all  thoughts  which  occurred  to  me,  and  trying  to  fear 
something. 

The  first  who  approached  to  confess  was  papa.  He 
remained  for  a  very  long  time  in  grandmamma's  room, 
and  meanwhile  all  of  us  in  the  boudoir  remained  silent, 
or  discussed  in  whispers  who  should  go  first.  At  length 
the  monk's  voice  was  'again  audible  behind  the  door,  as 
he  read  a  prayer,  and  then  papa's  footsteps.  The  door 
creaked,  and  he  emerged,  coughing,  as  was  his  wont, 
twitching  his  shoulders,  and  not  looking  at  any  of  us. 

"  Come,  do  you  go  now,  Liuba,  and  see  that  you  tell 
everything.  You  are  my  great  sinner,"  said  papa,  gayly, 
pinching  her  cheek. 

Liubotchka  reddened  and  turned  pale,  pulled  her  list 
from  her  apron  and  hid  it  again,  and,  hanging  her  head, 
and  seeming  to  shorten  her  neck,  as  though  expecting 
a  blow  from  above,  she  passed  through  the  door.  She 
did  not  stay  long,  but  when  she  came  out  her  shoulders 
were  heaving  with  sobs. 

Finally,  after  pretty  Katenka,  who  came  out  smiling, 
my  turn  came.  I  entered  the  half-lighted  room  with 
the  same  dull  terror,  and  a  desire  deliberately  to  aug- 
ment that  terror,  in  myself.  The  confessor  stood  before 
the  reading-desk,  and  slowly  turned  his  face  toward  me. 

I  did  not  remain  more  than  five  minutes  in  grand- 
mamma's room,  and  came  out  happy,  and,  according  to 
my  convictions  at  the  time,  a  perfectly  pure,  morally 
changed,  and  new  man.  Although  all  the  old  surround- 
ings of  life  struck  me  unpleasantly,  the  same  rooms,  the 
same  furniture,  the  same  face  in  myself  (I  should  have 
liked  to  change  my  exterior,  just  as  all  my  interior  had 
been  changed,  as  I  thought)  —  still,  notwithstanding 
this,  I  remained  in  this  refreshing  frame  of  mind  until 
I  went  to  bed. 


YOUTH  219 

I  had  already  fallen  into  a  doze,  as  I  was  going  over 
in  imagination  all  the  sins  of  which  I  had  been  purified, 
when  all  at  once  I  recalled  one  shameful  sin  which  I 
had  kept  back  in  confession.  The  words  of  the  prayer 
preceding  confession  came  back  to  me,  and  resounded 
in  my  ears  without  intermission.  All  my  composure 
vanished  in  a  moment.  "  And  if  ye  conceal  aught,  so 
shall  ye  have  greater  sin,"  I  heard  incessantly.  I  saw 
that  I  was  such  a  terrible  sinner  that  there  was  no 
punishment  adequate  for  me.  Long  did  I  toss  from 
side  to  side,  as  I  reflected  on  my  situation,  and  awaited 
God's  punishment  and  even  sudden  death  from  moment 
to  moment, — a  thought  which  threw  me  into  indescri- 
bable terror.  But  suddenly  the  happy  thought  occurred 
to  me,  to  go  or  ride  to  the  confessor  at  the  monastery  as 
soon  as  it  was  light,  and  confess  again;  and  I  became 
calm. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE   TRIP    TO    THE    MONASTERY 

I  WOKE  up  several  times  during  the  night,  fearing  to 
oversleep  myself  in  the  morning,  and  at  six  o'clock  I  was 
already  on  my  feet.  It  was  hardly  light  at  the  windows 
yet.  I  put  on  my  clothes  and  my  boots,  which  lay  in  a 
heap  and  unbrushed  by  the  bed,  for  Nikolai  had  not  suc- 
ceeded in  carrying  them  off;  and,  without  washing  my- 
self or  saying  my  prayers,  I  went  out  into  the  street 
alone  for  the  first  time  in  my  life. 

From  behind  the  big,  green-roofed  house  on  the  other 
side  of  the  street,  the  red  flush  of  the  dull,  cold  dawn 
appeared.  A  rather  hard  spring  morning  frost  bound 
the  mud  and  the  rivulets,  crackled  under  foot,  and  bit 
my  face  and  hands. 

There  was  not  a  single  cabman  in  our  lane  as  yet, 
though  I  had  counted  on  it  in  order  that  I  might  go 
and  return  the  more  speedily.  Only  a  few  carts  were 
dragging  slowly  along  the  Arbata,  and  a  couple  of  work- 


220  YOUTH 

ing  stone-masons  passed  along  the  sidewalk  in  conversa« 
tion.  After  I  had  gone  a  thousand  paces,  I  began  to 
meet  men  and  women  going  to  market  with  their  bas- 
kets, and  with  casks  going  for  water.  A  pie-seller  had 
come  out  at  the  corner;  one  kalatch-baker's  shop^  was 
open,  and  at  the  Arbatsky  gate  I  came  across  an  old 
cabman  asleep  on  his  worn,  blue,  patched  drozhky.  It 
must  have  been  in  his  sleep  that  he  asked  me  twenty 
kopeks  to  the  monastery  and  back,  but  then  he  suddenly 
recollected  himself ;  and  only  when  I  was  about  to  take 
my  seat  did  he  lash  his  horse  with  the  ends  of  the  reins, 
and  attempt  to  drive  off.  "  I  must  feed  my  horse  !  im- 
possible, master!"  he  muttered. 

It  was  with  difBculty  that  I  persuaded  him  to  stop  by 
offering  him  forty  kopeks.  He  pulled  up  his  horse, 
looked  me  over  carefully,  and  said,  "Get  in,  master." 
I  confess  that  I  was  rather  afraid  that  he  would  drive 
me  to  some  secluded  lane,  and  rob  me.  Catching  hold 
of  his  tattered  coat-collar,  whereupon  his  wrinkled  neck, 
mounted  upon  a  deeply  bowed  spine,  was  laid  bare  in  a 
pitiful  way,  I  climbed  up  to  the  blue,  undulating,  rocking 
seat,  and  we  went  shaking  down  the  Vosdvizhenka.  On 
the  way,  I  observed  that  the  back  of  the  drozhky  was 
lined  with  bits  of  the  greenish  material  from  which  the 
driver's  coat  was  made ;  and  this  fact  calmed  me,  for 
some  reason,  and  I  was  no  longer  afraid  that  the  izvosh- 
tchik  would  carry  me  off  to  an  obscure  alley  and  rob  me. 

The  sun  was  already  quite  high,  and  had  gilded  the 
cupolas  of  the  churches  brilliantly,  when  we  arrived  at 
the  monastery.  Frost  still  lingered  in  the  shade ;  but 
along  the  road  flowed  swift  turbid  streams,  and  the 
horse  splashed  along  through  liquid  mud.  On  entering 
the  inclosure  of  the  monastery,  I  inquired  of  the  first 
person  I  saw  where  I  could  find  the  confessor. 

"Yonder  is  his  cell,"  said  the  passing  monk,  pausing 
for  a  moment,  and  pointing  at  a  tiny  house  with  a  tiny 
portico. 

"I  am  extremely  obliged,"  said  I. 

But  what  could  the  monks,  who  all  stared  at  me  as 

^  Kalatch,  a  famous  and  favorite  kind  of  wheaten  roll. — Tr. 


YOUTH  221 

they  came  out  of  the  church  one  by  one,  think  of  me  ? 
I  was  neither  an  adult  nor  a  child ;.  my  face  was  un- 
washed, my  hair  uncombed,  my  clothing  dusty,  my 
shoes  uncleaned  and  still  muddy.  To  what  class  did 
the  monks,  who  were  surveying  me,  mentally  assign 
me?  And  they  examined  me  attentively.  Nevertheless, 
I  walked  in  the  direction  indicated  to  me  by  the  young 
monk. 

An  old  man  in  a  black  garment,  with  thick  gray  eye- 
brows, met  me  in  the  narrow  path  which  led  to  the  cell, 
and  asked  what  I  wanted. 

For  a  moment,  I  wanted  to  say,  "  Nothing,"  run  back 
to  the  carriage,  and  drive  home ;  but  the  old  man's 
face  inspired  confidence,  in  spite  of  his  contracted  brows. 
I  said  that  I  must  see  the  confessor,  and  mentioned  his 
name. 

"  Come,  young  sir,  I  will  conduct  you,"  said  he,  turn- 
ing back,  and  apparently  divining  my  situation  at  once. 
"  The  father  is  at  matins  ;  he  will  soon  be  here." 

He  opened  the  door,  and  led  me  through  a  clean  ves- 
tibule and  anteroom,  over  a  clean  linen  floor-covering, 
into  the  cell. 

"Wait  here,"  said  he,  with  a  kindly,  soothing  glance, 
and  went  out. 

The  little  room  in  which  I  found  myself  was  extremely 
small,  and  arranged  with  the  greatest  neatness.  A  little 
table  covered  with  oil-cloth,  that  stood  between  two 
double-leaved  windows,  upon  which  stood  two  pots  of 
geraniums,  a  stand  supporting  the  images,  and  a  lamp 
which  swung  before  them,  one  arm-chair  and  two  com- 
mon chairs,  comprised  the  entire  furniture.  In  the  cor- 
ner hung  a  wall-clock,  its  dial  adorned  with  painted 
flowers,  and  with  its  brass  weights  on  chains  half  un- 
wound ;  two  cassocks  hung  from  nails  in  the  partition, 
behind  which  was  probably  the  bed,  and  which  was 
joined    to    the    ceiling   by    whitewashed  wooden  poles. 

The  windows  opened  on  a  white  wall  about  four  feet 
and  a  half  distant.  Between  them  and  the  wall  was  a 
little  bush  of  syringa.  Not  a  sound  from  without  pene- 
trated to  the  room,  so  that  the  regular,  pleasant  tick  of 


222  YOUTH 

the  pendulum  seemed  a  loud  noise  in  this  stillness.  As 
soon  as  I  was  alone  in  this  quiet  nook,  all  my  former 
ideas  and  memories  suddenly  leaped  out  of  my  head,  as 
if  they  had  never  been  there,  and  I  became  wholly  ab- 
sorbed in  an  inexpressibly  agreeable  reverie.  That  yel- 
low nankeen  cassock,  with  its  threadbare  lining,  the 
worn  black  leather  bindings  of  the  books  and  their  brass 
clasps,  the  dull  green  hue  of  the  plants,  the  carefully 
watered  earth  and  well-washed  leaves,  and  the  monoto- 
nous, interrupted  sound  of  the  pendulum  in  particular, 
spoke  to  me  distinctly  of  a  new  life  hitherto  unknown 
to  me,  —  a  life  of  solitude,  of  prayer,  of  calm  quiet  hap- 
piness. 

"Months  pass  by,  years  pass  by,"  I  thought ;  "he  is 
always  alone,  always  calm  ;  he  always  feels  that  his  con- 
science is  pure  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  that  his  prayers 
are  heard  by  Him."  For  about  half  an  hour  I  sat  on 
that  chair,  trying  not  to  move,  and  not  to  breathe  loudly, 
in  order  that  I  might  not  disturb  the  harmony  of  sounds 
which  had  been  so  eloquent  to  me.  And  the  pendulum 
ticked  on  as  before :  loudly  to  the  right,  more  softly  to 
the  left. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

A    SECOND    CONFESSION 

The  confessor's  footsteps  aroused  me  from  this  reverie. 

"Good-morning,"  said  he,  adjusting  his  gray  hair  with 
his  hand.     "  What  would  you  like  ?  " 

I  asked  him  to  bless  me,  and  kissed  his  small  yellow- 
ish hand  with  peculiar  satisfaction. 

When  I  explained  my  petition  to  him,  he  made  no 
reply  to  me,  but  went  to  the  holy  pictures  and  began 
the  confession. 

When  the  confession  was  finished,  I  conquered  my 
shame,  told  him  all  that  was  in  my  soul ;  he  laid  his 
hands  upon  my  head,  and  in  his  quiet,  melodious  voice, 
he  said,  "  My  son,  may  the  blessing  of  our  Heavenly 


YOUTH  223 

Father  be  upon  you,  and  may  He  preserye  faith,  peace, 
and  gentleness  within  you  evermore.     Amen." 

I  was  perfectly  happy ;  tears  of  bliss  rose  in  my 
throat ;  I  kissed  the  folds  of  his  lady's-cloth  cassock, 
and  raised  my  head.     The  monk's  face  was  quite  calm. 

I  felt  that  I  was  taking  delight  in  the  sensation  of 
emotion  ;  and,  fearing  that  I  might  banish  it  in  some 
way,  I  took  leave  of  the  confessor  in  haste,  and  without 
glancing  aside,  in  order  not  to  distract  my  attention, 
quitted  the  inclosure,  and  seated  myself  again  in  the 
motley  and  jolting  drozhky.  But  the  jolts  of  the  equi- 
page, the  variety  of  objects  which  flashed  before  my 
eyes,  speedily  dissipated  that  sensation,  and  I  already 
began  to  think  that  the  confessor  was  probably  thinking 
by  this  time,  that  such  a  fine  soul  of  a  young  man  as  I 
he  had  never  met,  and  never  would  meet  in  all  his  life, 
and  that  there  were  no  others  like  me.  I  was  convinced 
of  it,  and  this  conviction  called  forth  in  me  a  feeling  of 
cheerfulness  of  such  a  nature  that  it  demanded  commu- 
nication to  some  one. 

I  wanted  dreadfully  to  talk  to  some  one  ;  but  as  there 
was  no  one  at  hand  except  the  izvoshtchik,  I  turned  to 
him. 

"  Well,  was  I  gone  long } "  I  asked. 

"  Not  so  very  long  ;  but  it  was  time  to  feed  the  horse 
long  ago,  because  I  am  a  night-cabman,"  replied  the  old 
izvoshtchik,  who,  now  that  the  sun  was  up,  seemed  quite 
lively,  compared  with  what  he  had  been  before. 

"  It  seemed  to  me  that  it  was  only  a  minute,"  said  I. 
"And  do  you  know  why  I  went  to  the  monastery?"  I 
added,  changing  my  seat  to  the  hollow  which  was  nearer 
the  old  driver. 

"  What  business  is  that  of  mine  ?  I  take  my  passen- 
gers wherever  they  order  me,"  he  replied. 

"  No,  but  nevertheless  what  do  you  think  ?  "  I  went 
on  with  my  interrogations. 

"Well,  probably,  some  one  is  to  be  buried,  and  you 
went  to  buy  a  place,"  said  he. 

"  No,  brother  ;  but  do  you  know  why  I  went  ?  " 

*T  can't  know,  master,"  he  repeated. 


224  YOUTH 

The  izvoshtchik's  voice  seemed  to  me  so  kind,  that  I 
determined  to  relate  to  him  the  cause  of  my  journey, 
and  even  the  feeling  which  I  had  experienced,  for  his 
edification. 

"  I  will  tell  you,  if  you  like.     You  see  ...." 

And  I  told  him  everything,  and  described  all  my 
beautiful  sentiments.  I  blush  even  now  at  the  memory 
of  it. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  izvoshtchik,  incredulously. 

And  for  a  long  time  after  that,  he  sat  silent  and 
motionless,  only  now  and  then  adjusting  the  tail  of  his 
coat,  that  escaped  from  beneath  his  motley  feet  which 
jogged  up  and  down  in  their  big  boots  on  the  foot-board. 
I  was  already  thinking  that  he  was  thinking  about  me 
in  the  same  way  as  the  confessor,  —  that  is,  as  such  a 
very  fine  young  man,  whose  like  did  not  exist  in  the 
world  ;  but  he  suddenly  turned  to  me. 

"  Well,  master,  are  you  a  gentleman  ? " 

"  What  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  A  gentleman,  are  you  a  gentleman  }  " 

"  No,  he  has  not  understood  me,"  I  thought,  but  I 
said  nothing  more  to  him  until  we  reached  home. 

Although  the  feeling  of  agitation  and  devotion  did 
not  last  the  whole  way,  self-satisfaction  in  having  ex- 
perienced it  did,  in  spite  of  the  people  who  dotted  the 
streets  everywhere  with  color  in  the  brilliant  sunlight  ; 
but,  as  soon  as  I  reached  home,  this  feeling  entirely  dis- 
appeared. I  did  not  have  my  two  twenty-kopek  pieces 
to  pay  the  driver.  Gavrilo  the  butler,  to  whom  I  was 
already  indebted,  would  not  lend  me  any  more.  The 
izvoshtchik,  after  seeing  me  run  through  the  courtyard 
twice  to  get  the  money,  must  have  guessed  why  I  was 
running,  climbed  down  from  his  drozhky,  and,  although 
he  had  seemed  to  me  so  kind,  began  to  talk  loudly,  with 
an  evident  desire  to  wound  me,  about  swindlers  who 
would  not  pay  for  their  rides. 

Every  one  was  still  asleep  in  the  house,  so  there  was 
no  one  of  whom  I  could  borrow  the  forty  kopeks  except 
the  servants.  Finally  Vasily,  on  my  sacred,  most  sacred 
word  of  honor,  in  which  (I  could  see  it  by  his  face)  he 


YOUTH  225 

did  not  put  the  slightest  faith,  but  because  he  loved  me 
and  remembered  the  service  which  I  had  rendered  him, 
paid  the  izvoshtchik  for  me.  When  I  went  to  dress  for 
church,  in  order  that  I  might  receive  the  Holy  Commu- 
nion with  the  rest,  and  it  turned  out  that  my  clothes  had 
not  been  mended  and  I  could  not  put  them  on,  I  sinned 
to  an  incalculable  extent.  Having  donned  another  suit, 
I  went  to  the  Communion  in  a  strange  state  of  agita> 
tion  of  mind,  and  with  utter  disbelief  in  my  very  fine 
proclivities. 

CHAPTER   IX 

HOW    I    PREPARE    FOR    EXAMINATION 

On  the  Friday  after  Easter,  papa,  my  sister  Mimi, 
and  Katenka  went  to  the  country ;  so  that  in  all  grand- 
mamma's great  house  there  remained  only  Volodya,  my- 
self, and  St.  Jerome.  The  frame  of  mind  in  which  I 
had  found  myself  on  the  day  of  confession,  and  when  I 
went  to  the  monastery,  had  completely  disappeared,  and 
had  left  behind  only  a  troubled  though  agreeable  mem- 
ory, which  was  more  and  more  dulled  by  the  new  impres- 
sions of  a  free  life. 

The  blank-book  with  the  heading  "Rules  of  Life" 
had  also  been  hidden  under  roughly  written  note-books 
of  my  studies.  Although  the  idea  of  the  possibility  of 
establishing  rules  for  all  the  contingencies  of  life,  and 
of  guiding  myself  always  by  them,  pleased  me,  and 
seemed  very  simple  and  at  the  same  time  very  grand, 
and  I  intended  all  the  same  to  apply  it  to  life,  I  seemed 
again  to  have  forgotten  that  it  was  necessary  to  do  this 
at  once,  and  I  kept  putting  it  off  to  some  indefinite  time. 
But  one  fact  delighted  me,  and  that  was  that  every 
thought  which  occurred  to  me  now  ranged  itself  immedi- 
ately under  one  or  other  of  the  classifications  of  my  rules 
and  duties,  —  either  under  the  head  of  duty  to  my  neigh- 
bor, to  myself,  or  to  God.  "  Now  I  will  set  it  down 
there,"  I  said  to  myself,  "and  many,  many  other 
thoughts  which  will  occur  to  me  then  on  this  subject."     I 


226  YOUTH 

often  ask  myself  now  :  When  was  I  better  or  more  cor- 
rect,  —  then,  when  I  believed  in  the  omnipotency  of  the 
human  intellect,  or  now  that  I  have  lost  faith  in  the 
power  of  development,  and  doubt  the  power  and  signifi- 
cance of  the  human  mind  ?  And  I  cannot  give  myself 
any  positive  answer. 

The  consciousness  of  freedom,  and  that  spring  feeling 
of  expecting  something,  which  I  have  already  mentioned, 
agitated  me  to  such  a  degree  that  I  positively  could  not 
control  myself,  and  I  was  very  badly  prepared  for  my 
examination.  Suppose  you  are  busy  in  the  school-room 
in  the  morning,  and  know  that  it  is  necessary  to  work, 
because  to-morrow  there  is  to  be  an  examination  on  a 
subject,  two  whole  questions  on  which  .you  have  not 
read  up  at  all,  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  a  spring  perfume 
wafts  in  at  the  window :  it  seems  as  though  it  were  in- 
dispensably necessary  to  recall  something  ;  your  hands 
drop  of  themselves,  your  feet  begin  to  move  of  their 
own  will,  and  to  pace  back  and  forth,  and  some  spring 
seems  to  be  pressed  in  your  head  which  sets  the  whole 
machine  in  motion  ;  and  it  is  so  light  and  natural  in 
your  mind,  and  divers  merry,  motley  reveries  begin  to 
run  through  it,  and  you  can  only  succeed  in  catching 
their  gleam.  Thus  an  hour,  two  hours,  pass  unnoticed. 
Or,  you  are  sitting  over  your  book,  and  concentrating 
your  attention,  after  a  fashion,  on  what  you  are  reading  ; 
and  suddenly  you  hear  the  sound  of  a  woman's  footsteps 
and  dress  in  the  corrider,  and  everything  has  sprung 
out  of  your  head,  and  there  is  no  possibility  of  sitting 
still  in  one  place,  although  you  know  very  well  that  no- 
body can  be  passing  through  that  corridor  except  Gascha, 
grandmother's  old  maid-servant.  "  Well,  but  if  it  should 
be  she  all  at  once  .'' "  comes  into  your  mind  ;  "and  what 
if  it  should  be  beginning  now,  and  I  let  the  opportunity 
slip?"  And  you  spring  out  into  the  corridor,  and  see 
that  it  is  actually  Gascha ;  but  you  do  not  recover  con- 
trol of  your  head  for  a  long  time.  The  spring  has  been 
pressed,  and  again  a  frightful  disorder  has  ensued.  Or, 
you  are  sitting  alone  in  the  evening,  with  a  tallow  can- 
dle, in  your  room  ;  and  all  at  once  you  tear  yourself  from 


YOUTH  227 

your  book  for  a  moment  in  order  to  snuff  the  candle  or 
to  place  a  chair,  and  you  see  that  it  is  dark  everywhere, 
at  the  doors  and  in  the  corners,  and  you  hear  how  quiet 
it  is  all  over  the  house  ;  and  again  it  is  impossible  not 
to  stop  and  listen  to  that  silence,  and  not  to  stare  at 
that  obscurity  of  the  door  which  is  open  into  a  dark 
chamber,  and  not  to  remain  for  a  long,  long  time  immov- 
able in  the  same  attitude,  or  not  to  go  down-stairs,  or 
pass  through  all  the  empty  rooms.  Often,  too,  I  have 
sat  unperceived,  for  a  long  time,  in  the  hall,  listening  to 
the  sound  of  the  "  Nightingale,"  which  Gascha  was  play- 
ing with  two  fingers  on  the  piano,  as  she  sat  alone  with 
one  tallow  candle  in  the  great  apartment.  And  when 
there  was  moonlight  I  could  not  resist  rising  from  my 
bed,  and  lying  on  the  window  toward  the  yard,  and  gaz- 
ing at  the  illuminated  roof  of  the  Schaposchnikoff  house, 
and  the  graceful  bell-tower  of  our  parish  church,  and  at 
the  night  shadows  of  the  hedge  and  bushes  as  they  lay 
upon  the  garden  paths  ;  and  I  could  not  help  sitting 
there  so  long,  that  I  was  only  able  to  rouse  myself  with 
difficulty  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

So  that,  had  it  not  been  for  the  masters  who  con- 
tinued to  come  to  me,  St.  Jerome,  who  now  and  then 
unwillingly  tickled  my  vanity,  and  most  of  all  the  desire 
to  show  myself  a  capable  young  fellow  in  the  eyes  of 
my  friend  Nekhliudoff,  that  is,  by  passing  an  excellent 
examination,  which  in  his  opinion  was  a  matter  of  great 
importance,  —  if  it  had  not  been  for  this,  the  spring  and 
liberty  would  have  had  the  effect  of  making  me  forget 
everything  I  had  known  before,  and  I  should  not  have 
been  able  to  pass  th«  examination  on  any  terms. 


CHAPTER   X 

THE   EXAMINATION    IN    HISTORY 

On  the  sixteenth  of  April  I  went  to  the  great  hall  of 
the  university  for  the  first  time,  under  the  protection  of 
St.  Jerome.     We  drove  there  in  our  rather  dandified  pha- 


228  YOUTH 

eton.  I  was  in  a  dress-coat  for  the  first  time  in  my  life ; 
and  all  my  clothing,  even  my  linen  and  stockings,  was 
perfectly  new,  and  of  the  very  best.  When  the  Swiss 
took  off  my  overcoat,  and  I  stood  before  him  in  all  the 
beauty  of  my  costume,  I  was  rather  ashamed  of  being 
so  dazzling  ;  but  I  no  sooner  stepped  into  the  bright 
hall,  with  its  polished  floor,  which  was  filled  with  people, 
and  beheld  hundreds  of  young  men  in  gymnasium  uni- 
forms and  dress-coats,  several  of  whom  glanced  at  me 
with  indifference,  and  the  dignified  professors  at  the 
farther  end,  walking  freely  about  among  the  tables,  and 
sitting  in  large  arm-chairs,  than  I  was  instantly  disen- 
chanted in  my  hope  of  turning  the  general  attention 
upon  myself ;  and  the  expression  of  my  countenance, 
which  at  home  and  even  in  the  anteroom  had  indicated 
that  I  possessed  that  noble  and  distinguished  appearance 
against  my  will,  changed  into  an  expression  of  the  most 
excessive  timidity,  and  to  some  extent  of  depression. 
I  even  fell  into  the  other  extreme,  and  rejoiced  greatly 
when  I  beheld  at  the  nearest  desk  an  excessively  ugly, 
dirtily  dressed  gentleman,  not  yet  old  but  almost  en- 
tirely gray,  who  sat  on  the  last  bench,  at  a  distance 
from  all  the  rest.  I  immediately  seated  myself  beside 
him,  and  began  to  observe  the  candidates  for  examina- 
tion, and  to  draw  my  conclusions  about  them.  Many 
and  varied  were  the  figures  and  faces  there  ;  but  all, 
according  to  my  opinion  at  the  time,  were  easily  divisi- 
ble into  three  classes. 

There  were  those  who,  like  myself,  presented  them- 
selves for  examination,  accompanied  by  their  tutors  or 
parents ;  and  among  their  numb^  was  the  youngest 
Ivin  with  Frost,  already  so  well  known  to  me,  and  Ilinka 
Grap  with  his  aged  father.  All  such  had  downy  chins, 
prominent  linen,  and  sat  quietly  without  opening  the 
books  and  blank-books  which  they  had  brought  with  them, 
and  regarded  the  professors  and  examination  tables  with 
evident  timidity.  The  second  class  of  candidates  were 
the  young  men  in  the  gymnasium  uniforms,  many  of 
whom  had  already  shaved.  Most  of  these  knew  each 
other,  talked  loudly,  mentioned  the  professors  by  their 


YOUTH  229 

names  and  patronymics,  were  already  preparing  ques- 
tions, passing"  their  note-books  to  each  other,  walking 
over  the  stools  in  the  anteroom,  and  bringing  in  patties 
and  slices  of  bread-and-butter,  which  they  immediately 
devoured,  merely  bending  their  heads  to  a  level  with 
the  desks.  And  lastly,  there  was  a  third  class  of  candi- 
dates, very  few  in  number,  however,  who  were  quite  old, 
were  attired  in  dress-coats,  though  the  majority  wore 
surtouts,  and  were  without  any  visible  linen.  The  one 
who  consoled  me  by  being  certainly  dressed  worse  than 
I  was  belonged  to  this  last  class.  He  leaned  his  head 
on  both  hands,  and  between  his  fingers  escaped  dishev- 
eled locks  of  half-gray  hair  ;  he  was  reading  a  book, 
and  merely  glanced  at  me  for  a  moment  with  his  brill- 
iant eyes  in  anything  but  a  good-natured  way,  scowled 
darkly,  and  thrust  out  a  shiny  elbow  in  my  direction,  so 
that  I  might  not  move  any  nearer  to  him.  The  gymna- 
sium men,  on  the  other  hand,  were  too  familiar,  and  I 
was  a  little  afraid  of  them.  One  said,  as  he  thrust  a 
book  into  my  hand,  "Give  this  to  that  man  yonder ; " 
another  said,  as  he  passed  me,  "  Let  me  pass,  my  good 
fellow;"  a  third,  as  he  climbed  over  the  desk,  leaned 
on  my  shoulder  as  though  it  had  been  the  bench.  All 
this  was  coarse  and  disagreeable  to  me.  I  considered 
myself  much  better  than  these  fellows  from  the  gym- 
nasium, and  thought  they  had  no  business  to  permit 
themselves  such  liberties  with  me.  At  last  they  began 
to  call  the  family  names  ;  the  gymnasium  fellows  stepped 
out  boldly,  answered  well  for  the  most  part,  and  returned 
cheerfully.  Our  set  were  much  more  timid,  and  an- 
swered worse,  it  appeared.  Some  of  the  elder  men 
answered  excellently,  others  very  badly  indeed.  When 
Semenoff  was  called,  my  neighbor  with  the  hair  and 
glittering  eyes  stepped  over  my  feet  with  a  rude  push, 
and  went  up  to  the  table.  On  returning  to  his  place, 
he  took  up  his  note-books,  and  quietly  went  away  with- 
out finding  out  how  he  had  been  rated.  I  had  already 
shuddered  several  times  at  the  sound  of  the  voice  which 
called  the  family  names,  but  my  turn  had  not  yet  come, 
according  to  the  alphabetical  list,  although  some  whose 


230 


YOUTH 


names  began  with  I  had  already  been  called  up.  "Ikonin 
and  Teneff,"  shouted  some  one  in  the  professors'  corner 
all  of  a  sudden.  A  shiver  ran  through  my  back  and 
my  hair. 

"Who  is  called?  Who  is  Barteneff .?  "  they  began 
to  say  around  me. 

"  Go,  Ikonin,  you  are  caJ.'id ;  but  who  is  Barteneff, 
Mordeneff.^  I  do  not  know,  confess,"  said  a  tall,  ruddy 
gymnasist  as  he  stood  before  me. 

"  It  is  you,"  said  St.  Jerome. 

"My  name  is  Irteneff,"  said  I  to  the  red-faced  gym- 
nasist.    "Did  they  call  for  Irteneff.''" 

"Yes;  why  don't  you  go.-*  What  a  fop!"  he  added, 
not  loudly,  but  so  that  I  heard  his  words,  as  I  left  the 
bench.  In. front  of  me  walked  Ikonin,  a  tall  young  man 
of  five  and  twenty,  who  belonged  to  the  third  class  of 
old  candidates.  He  wore  a  tight  olive  coat,  a  blue  satin 
neckerchief,  upon  which  behind  hung  his  long,  light 
hair,  dressed  a  la  muzhik.^  I  had  already  remarked  his 
personal  appearance  on  the  seats.  He  was  rather  good- 
looking  and  talkative. 

What  especially  struck  me  in  him  was  the  queer  red- 
dish hair  which  he  had  allowed  to  grow  on  his  throat ; 
and,  still  more,  a  strange  custom  which  he  had  of  inces- 
santly unbuttoning  his  waistcoat,  and  scratching  his 
breast  under  his  shirt. 

Three  professors  were  seated  at  the  table  which 
Ikonin  and  I  were  approaching;  not  one  of  them  re- 
turned our  salute.  The  young  professor  was  shuffling 
tickets  like  a  pack  of  cards  ;  the  second  professor,  with 
a  star  on  his  coat,  was  staring  at  the  gymnasist  who 
was  saying  something  very  rapidly  about  Charlemagne, 
adding  "at  last"  to  every  word;  and  the  third,  an  old 
man,  looked  at  us  through  his  spectacles,  and  pointed  to 
the  tickets.  I  felt  that  his  gaze  was  directed  upon 
Ikonin  and  me  jointly,  and  that  something  in  our 
appearance  displeased  him  (possibly  Ikonin'^s  red  beard), 
because  as  he  looked  at  us  again  in  the  same  way  he 
made  an  impatient  sign  with   his   head   to  us  that  we 

1  Peasant ;  cut  square  all  round.  —  Tr. 


YOUTH  231 

should  take  our  tickets  as  quickly  as  possible.  I  felt 
vexed  and  insulted,  in  the  first  place,  because  no  one 
had  returned  our  bow,  and,  in  the  second,  because  they 
were  evidently  including  me  and  Ikonin  in  one  classifi- 
cation, that  of  candidates  for  examination,  and  were 
already  prejudiced  against  me  because  of  Ikonin's  red 
hair.  I  took  my  ticket  without  timidity,  and  prepared 
to  answer,  but  the  professor  directed  his  gaze  at  Ikonin. 
I  read  my  ticket  through  ;  I  knew  it,  and,  while  calmly 
awaiting  my  turn,  I  observed  what  was  going  on  before 
me.  Ikonin  was  not  in  the  least  embarrassed,  and  was 
even  too  bold,  for  he  moved  sideways  to  take  his  ticket, 
shook  back  his  hair,  and  read  what  was  printed  on  it  in 
a  dashing  way.  He  was  on  the  point  of  opening  his 
mouth  to  reply,  I  thought,  when  the  professor  with 
the  star,  having  dismissed  the  gymnasist  with  praise, 
glanced  at  him.  Ikonin  seemed  to  recollect  something, 
and  paused.  The  general  silence  lasted  for  a  couple  of 
minutes. 

"Well,"  said  the  professor  in  spectacles. 

Ikonin  opened  his  mouth,  and  again  remained  silent. 

"Come,  you  are  not  the  only  one;  will  you  answer  or 
not .'' "  said  the  young  professor,  but  Ikonin  did  not  even 
look  at  him.  He  stared  intently  at  the  ticket,  and  did 
not  utter  a  single  word.  The  professor  in  spectacles 
looked  at  him  through  his  glasses,  and  over  his  glasses, 
and  without  his  glasses,  because  by  this  time  he  had 
managed  to  remove  them,  wipe  them  carefully,  and  put 
them  on  again.  Ikonin  never  uttered  a  word.  Sud- 
denly a  smile  dawned  upon  his  face,  he  shook  back  his 
hair,  again  turned  full  broadside  to  the  table,  looked  at 
all  the  professors  in  turn,  then  at  me,  turned,  and  flour- 
ishing his  hands  walked  jauntily  back  to  his  bench.  The 
professors  exchanged  glances. 

"  A  fine  bird  ! "  ^  said  the  young  professor ;  "  he  studies 
at  his  own  expense." 

I  stepped  nearer  to  the  table,  but  the  professors  con- 
tinued to  talk  almost  in  a  whisper  among  themselves, 
as  though  none  of  them  even  suspected  my  existence. 

1  Golublchik,  little  dove. 


232 


YOUTH 


Then  I  was  firmly  convinced  that  all  three  professors 
were  very  much  occupied  with  the  question  as  to  whether 
I  would  stand  the  examination,  and  whether  I  would 
come  out  of  it  well,  but  that  they  were  only  pretending, 
for  the  sake  of  their  dignity,  that  it  was  a  matter  of 
utter  indifference  to  them,  and  that  they  did  not  per- 
ceive me. 

When  the  professor  in  spectacles  turned  indifferently 
to  me,  inviting  me  to  answer  the  questions,  I  looked 
him  full  in  the  eye,  and  was  rather  ashamed  for  him 
that  he  should  so  dissemble  before  me,  and  I  hesitated 
somewhat  in  beginning  my  answer;  but  afterward  it 
became  easier  and  easier,  and,  as  the  question  was  from 
Russian  history,  which  I  knew  very  well,  I  finished  in 
brilliant  style,  and  even  gained  confidence  to  such  an 
extent  that,  desiring  to  make  the  professors  feel  that  I 
was  not  Ikonin,  and  that  it  was  impossible  to  confound 
me  with  him,  I  proposed  to  take  another  ticket;  but 
the  professor  shook  his  head  and  said,  "Very  good,  sir," 
and  noted  down  something  in  his  journal.  When  I  re- 
turned to  the  benches,  I  immediately  learned  from  the 
gymnasists,  who  had  found  out  everything,  God  knows 
how,  that  I  had  received  five. 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE    EXAMINATION    IN    MATHEMATICS 

In  the  succeeding  examinations  I  had  many  new 
acquaintances  besides  Grap,  —  whom  I  deemed  un- 
worthy of  my  acquaintance,  —  and  Ivin,  who  shunned 
me  for  some  reason.  Several  already  exchanged  greet- 
ings with  me.  Ikonin  was  even  rejoiced  when  he  saw 
me,  and  confided  to  me  that  he  should  be  reexamined  in 
history,  that  the  history  professor  had  had  a  spite 
against  him  since  the  last  examination,  at  which,  also, 
he  asserted  the  latter  had  thrown  him  into  confusion. 
Semenoff,  who  was  going  to  enter  the  same  course  as 
I,  mathematics,  was  shy  of    every  one    until    the  very 


YOUTH  233 

end  of  the  examinations,  sat  silent  and  alone,  leaning 
on  his  elbows,  with  his  hands  thrust  into  his  gray  hair, 
and  passed  his  examinations  in  excellent  style.  He 
was  second  ;  a  student  from  the  first  gymnasium  was 
first.  The  latter  was  a  tall,  thin,  extremely  pale,  dark- 
complexioned  man,  with  a  cheek  bound  up  in  a  black 
neck-cloth,  and  a  forehead  covered  with  pimples.  His 
hands  were  thin  and  red,  with  remarkably  long  fingers, 
and  nails  so  bitten  that  the  ends  of  his  fingers  seemed 
to  be  wound  with  thread.  All  this  seemed  very  beauti- 
ful to  me,  and  just  as  it  should  be  in  the  case  of  t/ie 
leading  gyvinasist.  He  spoke  to  everybody  exactly  like 
anybody  else,  and  I  even  made  his  acquaintance  ;  but 
it  seemed  to  me  that  there  was  something  unusually 
magnetic  in  his  walk,  the  movements  of  his  lips,  and  his 
black  eyes. 

In  the  mathematical  examination  I  was  called  up 
earlier  than  usual.  I  knew  the  subject  pretty  well ; 
but  there  were  two  questions  in  algebra  which  I  had 
contrived  in  some  way  to  hide  from  my  teacher,  and 
which  I  knew  absolutely  nothing  about.  They  were,  as 
I  now  recall  them,  the  theory  of  combinations,  and 
Newton's  binomial  theorem.  I  seated  myself  at  the 
desk  in  the  rear,  and  looked  over  the  two  unfamiliar 
questions  ;  but  the  fact  that  I  was  not  accustomed  to 
work  in  a  noisy  room,  and  the  lack  of  time,  which  I 
foresaw,  prevented  my  understanding  what  I  read. 

"  Here  he  is  ;  come  here,  Nekhliudoff,"  said  Volodya's 
familiar  voice  behind  me. 

I  turned,  and  saw  my  brother  and  Dmitry,  who  were 
making  their  way  toward  me  between  the  benches,  with 
coats  unbuttoned  and  hands  flourishing.  It  was  im- 
mediately apparent  that  they  were  students  in  their 
second  year,  who  were  as  much  at  home  in  the  univer- 
sity as  in  their  own  houses.  The  sight  of  their  unbut- 
toned coats  alone  expressed  disdain  for  us  who  were 
entering,  and  inspired  us  with  envy  and  respect.  It 
flattered  me  very  much  to  think  that  all  about  me  could 
see  that  I  was  acquainted  with  two  students  in  their 
second  year,  and  I  rose  hastily  to  meet  them. 


234 


YOUTH 


Volodya  could  not  even  refrain  from  expressing  his 
superiority. 

"Oil,  you  poor  wretch!"  said  he;  "how  goes  it? 
Have  you  been  examined  yet?" 

"No." 

"  What  are  you  reading  ?     Are  n't  you  prepared  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  but  not  quite  on  two  questions.  I  don't  un- 
derstand them." 

"What!  this  one  here  ?"  said  Volodya,  and  began  to 
explain  to  me  Newton's  binomial  theorem,  but  so  rap- 
idly and  in  such  a  confused  manner,  that,  reading  dis- 
belief in  his  knowledge  in  my  eyes,  he  glanced  at 
Dmitry,  and  probably  reading  the  same  in  his,  he 
turned  red,  but  went  on,  nevertheless,  to  say  some- 
thing which  I  did  not  understand. 

"  No,  Volodya,  stop ;  let  me  go  through  it  with  him, 
if  we  have  time,"  said  Dmitry,  glancing  at  the  profess- 
ors' corner ;  and  he  seated  himself  beside  me. 

I  immediately  perceived  that  my  friend  was  in  that 
gentle,  complacent  mood  which  always  came  upon  him 
when  he  was  satisfied  with  himself,  and  which  I  spe- 
cially liked  in  him.  As  he  understood  mathematics 
well,  and  spoke  clearly,  he  went  over  the  subject  so 
splendidly  with  me,  that  I  remember  it  to  this  day. 
But  scarcely  had  he  finished,  when  St.  Jerome  said  in 
a  loud  whisper,  "It's  your  turn,  Nikolas,"  and  I  fol- 
lowed Ikonin  from  behind  the  desk,  without  having 
succeeded  in  looking  over  the  other  unfamiliar  question. 
I  approached  the  table  where  the  two  professors  sat, 
and  a  gymnasist  was  standing  before  the  blackboard. 
The  gymnasist  had  cleverly  deduced  some  formula, 
breaking  his  chalk  with  a  tap  on  the  board,  and  still 
went  on  writing,  although  the  professor  had  already 
said,  "Enough!"  and  ordered  us  to  take  our  tickets. 
"  Now,  what  if  I  get  that  theory  of  the  combination  of 
numbers?"  thought  I,  picking  out  my  ticket  with 
trembling  fingers  from  the  soft  pile  of  cut  paper. 
Ikonin  took  the  topmost  ticket,  without  making  any 
choice,  with  the  same  bold  gesture  and  sideways  lunge 
of  his  whole  body  as  in  the  preceding  examination. 


YOUTH  2s^ 

"  I  always  have  such  devilish  luck !  "  he  muttered. 

I  looked  at  mine. 

Oh,  horror !     It  was  the  theory  of  combinations. 

"  What  have  you  got  1 "  asked  Ikonin. 

I  showed  him. 

"I  know  that,"  said  he. 

"  Will  you  change  .-•  " 

"  No,  it 's  no  matter ;  I  feel  that  I  'm  not  in  condi- 
tion," Ikonin  barely  contrived  to  whisper,  when  the 
professor  summoned  us  to  the  board. 

"Well,  all's  lost!"  I  thought.  "Instead  of  the 
brilliant  examination  which  I  dreamed  of  passing,  I 
shall  cover  myself  with  eternal  disgrace,  even  worse" 
than  Ikonin."  But  all  at  once  Ikonin  turned  to  me, 
right  before  the  professor's  eyes,  snatched  the  card 
from  my  hand,  and  gave  me  his.  I  glanced  at  his  card. 
It  was  Newton's  binomial  theorem. 

The  professor  was  not  an  old  man  ;  and  he  had  a 
pleasant,  sensible  expression,  to  which  the  extremely 
prominent  lower  part  of  his  forehead  particularly  con- 
tributed. 

"What  is  this,  gentlemen.'*  you  have  exchanged 
cards  .? " 

"  No,  he  only  gave  me  his  to  look  at,  professor,"  said 
Ikonin,  inventing, — and  again  the  word  professor  was 
the  last  one  he  uttered  in  that  place ;  and  again,  as  he 
retired  past  me,  he  glanced  at  the  professors,  at  me, 
smiled,  and  shrugged  his  shoulders,  with  an  expression 
as  much  as  to  say,  "No  matter,  brother!"  (I  after- 
ward learned  that  this  was  the  third  year  that  Ikonin 
had  presented  himself  for  the  entrance  examination.) 

I  answered  the  question  which  I  had  just  gone  over, 
excellently, — even  better,  as  the  professor  told  me, 
than  would  have  been  required,  —  and  received  five. 


2j6  YOUTH 

CHAPTER   XII 

THE    LATIN    EXAMINATION 

All  went  on  finely  until  the  Latin  examination.  .  The 
gymnasist  with  his  cheek  bound  up  was  first,  Semenoff 
second,  I  was  the  third.  I  even  began  to  feel  proud, 
and  seriously  to  think  that,  in  spite  of  my  youth,  I  was 
not  to  be  taken  in  jest. 

From  the  very  first  examination,  everybody  had  been 
talking  with  terror  of  the  Latin  professor,  who  was  repre- 
sented as  a  kind  of  wild  beast  who  took  delight  in  the 
destruction  of  young  men,  especially  of  such  as  lived  at 
their  own  homes,  and  as  speaking  only  in  the  Latin  or 
Greek  tongue.  St.  Jerome,  who  was  my  instructor  in 
the  Latin  language,  encouraged  me  ;  and  it  really  seemed 
to  me  that,  since  I  could  translate  from  Cicero  and 
several  odes  of  Horace  without  a  lexicon,  and  since  I 
knew  Zumpt  very  well  indeed,  I  was  no  worse  prepared 
than  the  rest.  But  it  turned  out  otherwise.  All  the 
morning  there  was  nothing  to  be  heard  but  tales  of  the 
failures  of  those  who  preceded  me  ;  this  man  had  been 
marked  zero ;  another,  one  ;  and  still  another  had  been 
scolded  terribly,  and  had  been  on  the  point  of  getting 
turned  out,  and  so  forth,  and  so  forth.  Semenoff  and 
the  first  gymnasist  alone  went  up  and  returned  with  as 
much  composure  as  usual,  having  each  received  five. 
I  already  had  a  presentiment  of  disaster,  when  I  was 
called  up  with  Ikonin  to  the  little  table,  facing  which 
the  terrible  professor  sat  quite  alone.  The  terrible  pro- 
fessor was  a  small,  thin,  yellow  man,  with  long  oily  hair 
and  a  very  thoughtful  countenance. 

He  gave  Ikonin  a  volume  of  Cicero's  Orations,  and 
made  him  translate. 

To  my  great  amazement,  Ikonin  not  only  read,  but 
even  translated  several  lines,  with  the  aid  of  the  pro- 
fessor, who  prompted  him.  Conscious  of  my  superiority 
over  such  a  feeble  rival,  I  could  not  refrain  from  smil- 
ing, and  from  doing  so  in  a  rather    scornful  way  too, 


YOUTH  237 

when  the  question  of  analysis  came  up,  and  Ikonin,  as 
before,  sank  into  stubborn  silence.  I  meant  to  con- 
ciliate the  professor  by  that  intelligent,  slightly  ironical 
smile ;  but  it  turned  out  the  other  way. 

"  You  evidently  know  better,  since  you  smile,"  said 
the  professor  to  me  in  bad  Russian.  "  Let  me  see. 
Come,  do  you  say  it." 

I  learned  afterward  that  the  Latin  professor  was 
Ikonin's  protector  and  that  Ikonin  even  lived  with  him. 
I  immediately  replied  to  the  question  in  syntax  which 
had  been  propounded  to  Ikonin  ;  but  the  professor  put 
on  a  sad  expression,  and  turned  away  from  me. 

"  Very  good,  sir ;  your  turn  will  come ;  we  shall  see 
how  much  you  know,"  said  he,  not  looking  at  me,  and 
began  to  explain  to  Ikonin  what  he  had  questioned 
him  on. 

"  Go,"  said  he  ;  and  I  saw  him  set  down  four  for  Ikonin 
in  the  register.  "Well,"  thought  I,  "he  is  not  nearly  as 
stern  as  they  said."  After  Ikonin's  departure,  —  for  at 
least  five  minutes,  which  seemed  to  me  five  hours,  —  he 
arranged  his  books  and  cards,  blew  his  nose,  adjusted  his 
arm-chair,  threw  himself  back  in  it,  and  looked  round  the 
room,  and  on  all  sides  except  in  my  direction.  But  all 
this  dissimulation  seemed  to  him  insufficient.  He  opened 
a  book,  and  pretended  to  read  it,  as  though  I  were  not 
there.     I  stepped  up  nearer,  and  coughed. 

"  Ah,  yes !  Are  you  still  there  ?  Well,  translate 
something,"  said  he,  handing  me  a  book.  "  But  no  ; 
better  take  this  one."  He  turned  over  the  leaves  of  a 
copy  of  Horace,  and  opened  it  at  a  passage  which  it 
seemed  to  me  nobody  ever  could  translate. 

"I  have  not  prepared  this,"  said  I. 

"And  you  want  to  recite  what  you  have  learned  by 
heart.''     Very  good  !     No  ;  translate  this." 

I  managed  to  get  the  sense  of  it  after  a  fashion  ;  but 
the  professor  only  shook  his  head  at  each  of  my  inquiring 
glances,  and  merely  answered  "No,"  with  a  sigh.  At 
last  he  closed  his  book  with  such  nervous  quickness  that 
he  pinched  his  own  finger  between  the  leaves.  He  jerked 
it  out  angrily,  gave  me  a  card  in  grammar,  and,  flinging 


238  YOUTH 

himself  back  in  his  chair,  he  continued  to  preserve  the 
most  malicious  silence.  I  was  on  the  point  of  answer- 
ing ;  but  the  expression  of  his  countenance  fettered  my 
tongue,  and  everything  which  I  said  appeared  to  me  to 
be  wrong. 

"  That 's  not  it !  that 's  not  it !  that 's  not  it  at  all !  "  he 
suddenly  broke  out  with  his  horrible  pronunciation,  as 
he  briskly  changed  his  attitude,  leaned  his  elbows  on 
the  table,  and  played  with  the  gold  ring  which  clung 
weakly  to  a  thin  finger  of  his  left  hand.  "It's  impos- 
sible, gentlemen,  to  prepare  for  the  higher  educational 
institutions  in  this  manner.  All  you  want  is  to  wear 
the  uniform,  with  its  blue  collar,  and  brag  of  being  first, 
and  think  that  you  can  be  students.  No,  gentlemen  ; 
you  must  be  thoroughly  grounded  in  your  subject;" 
and  so  forth,  and  so  forth. 

During  the  whole  of  this  speech,  which  was  uttered 
in  distorted  language,  I  gazed  with  dull  attention  at  his 
eyes,  which  were  fixed  on  the  floor.  At  first,  the  dis- 
enchantment of  not  being  third  tortured  me  ;  then  the 
fear  of  not  getting  through  my  examination  at  all ;  and, 
finally,  a  sense  of  injustice  was  added,  of  wounded  van- 
ity and  unmerited  humiliation.  Besides  this,  contempt 
for  the  professor  because  he  was  not,  in  my  opinion,  a 
man  comme  il  faiit, — which  I  discerned  by  looking  at 
his  short,  strong,  round  nails,  —  influenced  me  still  more, 
and  rendered  all  these  feelings  venomous.  He  glanced 
at  me  ;  and,  perceiving  my  quivering  lips  and  my  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  he  must  have  construed  my  emotion 
into  a  prayer  to  increase  my  mark,  and  he  said,  as 
though  compassionating  me  (and  before  another  pro- 
fessor, too,  who  came  up  at  that  moment)  :  — 

"Very  good,  sir.  I  will  give  you  a  very  fine  mark" 
(that  meant  two),  "  although  you  do  not  deserve  it,  out 
of  respect  to  your  youth,  antl  in  the  hope  that  you  will 
not  be  so  light-minded  in  the  university." 

This  last  phrase,  uttered  in  the  presence  of  the 
strange  professor,  who  looked  at  me  as  if  to  say, 
"There,  you  see,  young  man!"  completed  my  confu- 
sion.     For  one  moment  a  mist  veiled  my  eyes;    the 


YOUTH 


239 


terrible  professor,  with  his  table,  seemed  to  me  to  be 
sitting  somewhere  in  the  far  distance,  and  the  wild 
thought  came  into  my  mind,  with  a  terrible  one-sided 
distinctness:  "And  what  if  —  what  will  come  of  this?" 
But  I  did  not  do  it,  for  some  reason  ;  on  the  contrary,  I 
saluted  both  professors  mechanically,  with  special  cour- 
tesy, and  left  the  table,  smiling  slightly,  with  the  same 
smile,  apparently,  that  Ikonin  had  exhibited. 

This  injustice  affected  me  so  powerfully  at  the  time, 
that,  had  I  been  master  of  my  own  actions,  I  should  not 
have  gone  to  any  more  examinations.  I  lost  all  my  van- 
ity (it  was  impossible  to  think  any  longer  of  being  num- 
ber three),  and  I  let  the  remaining  exansinations  pass 
without  any  exertion,  and  even  without  emotion.  My 
average,  however,  was  somewhat  over  four,  but  this  did 
not  interest  me  in  the  least ;  I  made  up  my  mind,  and 
proved  it  to  myself  very  clearly,  that  it  was  bad  form  to 
try  to  be  first,  and  that  one  ought  to  be  neither  too  good 
nor  too  bad,  like  Volodya.  I  meant  to  keep  to  this  in 
the  university,  although  I,  for  the  first  time,  differed 
from  my  friend  on  this  point. 

I  was  already  thinking  of  my  uniform,  my  three- 
cornered  hat,  my  own  drozhky,  my  own  room,  and, 
most  of  all,  of  my  freedom. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

I    AM    GROWN    UP 

Moreover,  even  these  thoughts  had  their  charm. 

On  my  return  from  the  last  examination  in  the  Law 
of  God,  on  the  eighth  of  May,  I  found  at  the  house  a 
tailor's  apprentice,  whom  I  knew,  from  Rosanoff,  who 
had  already  brought  my  hastily  finished  uniform  and  a 
coat  of  glossy  black  cloth,  open  at  the  throat,  and  had 
marked  the  revcrs  with  chalk,  and  had  now  brought  the 
finished  garment  with  brilliant  gilt  buttons,  enveloped 
in  papers. 

I  put  on  this  garment,  and  thought  it  very  fine  (al- 


240  YOUTH 

though  St.  ]6r6me  declared  that  it  wrinkled  in  the  back), 
and  went  down-stairs  with  a  self-satisfied  smile,  which 
spread  over  my  face  quite  involuntarily,  to  Volodya's 
rooms,  conscious  of  the  glances  of  the  domestics  which 
were  eagerly  fixed  on  me  from  the  anteroom  and  corri- 
dor, but  pretending  that  I  was  not.  Gavrilo,  the  butler, 
overtook  me  in  the  hall,  congratulated  me  on  my  en- 
trance, handed  over  to  me,  by  papa's  orders,  four  white 
bank-bills,  and  also,  by  papa's  direction,  Kuzma  the 
coachman,  a  prolyotka,^  and  the  brown  horse  Beauty, 
to  be  at  my  exclusive  disposal  from  that  d'ay  forth.  I 
was  so  rejoiced  at  this  almost  unlooked-for  happiness, 
that  I  could  n*ot  manage  to  appear  indifferent  before 
Gavrilo,  and  in  some  confusion  I  said,  with  a  sigh,  the 
first  thing  which  came  into  my  head,  which  was  that 
"  Beauty  was  a  very  fine  trotter  !  "  Glancing  at  the 
heads  which  were  thrust  out  of  the  doors  leading  from 
the  anteroom  and  corridor,  I  could  no  longer  control 
myself ;  and  I  rushed  through  the  hall  at  a  trot,  in  my 
new  coat  and  shining  gilt  buttons.  As  I  entered  Volo- 
dya's room,  I  heard  the  voices  of  Dubkoff  and  Nekhliu- 
doff,  who  had  come  to  congratulate  me,  and  to  propose 
that  we  should  go  somewhere  to  dine  and  drink  cham- 
pagne, in  honor  of  my  entrance.  Dmitry  told  me  that, 
although  he  did  not  care  to  drink  champagne,  he  would 
go  with  us  that  day  in  order  to  drink  with  me  on  our  be- 
ginning to  call  each  other  i/iou.  Dubkoff,  for  some  rea- 
son, declared  that  I  resembled  a  colonel.  Volodya  did 
not  congratulate  me,  and  only  said,  very  dryly,  that  now 
we  should  be  able  to  set  out  for  the  country  on  the  next 
day  but  one.  It  seemed  as  though,  while  glad  of  my 
entrance,  it  was  rather  disagreeable  to  him  that  I  should 
now  be  as  much  grown  up  as  he.  St.  Jerome,  who  had 
also  come  to  the  house,  said  in  a  very  haughty  way  that 
his  duties  were  now  at  an  end,  and  he  did  not  know 
whether  they  had  been  fulfilled  well  or  ill,  but  that  he 
had  done  all  he  could,  and  he  should  go  to  his  Count  on 
the  next  day.  In  answer  to  all  that  was  said  to  me,  I  felt 
a  sweet,  blissful,  rather  foolishly  self-satisfied  smile  dawn 

1  A  kind  of  drozhky. 


YOUTH  241 

upon  my  countenance  against  my  will ;  and  I  perceived 
that  this  smile  even  communicated  itself  to  all  who 
talked  with  me. 

And  here  I  am,  without  a  tutor ;  I  have  a  drozhky  of 
my  own  ;  my  name  is  inscribed  on  the  register  of  stu- 
dents ;  I  have  a  sword  in  my  belt ;  the  sentries  might 
sometimes  salute  me.  "  I  am  grown  up,"  and  I  think 
I  am  happy. 

We  decided  to  dine  at  Jahr's  at  five  o'clock ;  but  as 
Volodya  went  off  with  Dubkoff,  and  Dmitry  also  dis- 
appeared somewhere  according"  to  custom,  saying  that 
he  had  an  affair  to  attend  to  before  dinner,  I  could  dis- 
pose of  two  hours  as  I  pleased.  I  walked  about  through 
all  the  rooms  for  quite  a  while,  inspecting  myself  in  all 
the  mirrors,  now  with  my  coat  buttoned,  again  with  it 
quite  unbuttoned,  then  with  only  the  upper  button 
fastened ;  and  every  way  seemed  excellent  to  me. 
Then,  ashamed  as  I  was  to  exhibit  too  much  joy,  I 
could  not  refrain  from  going  to  the  stable  and  coach- 
house, to  inspect  Beauty,  Kuzma,  and  the  drozhky ; 
then  I  went  back  and  began  to  wander  through  the 
rooms,  looking  in  the  mirrors,  counting  the  money  in 
my  pocket,  and  smiling  in  the  same  blissful  manner  all 
the  while.  But  an  hour  had  not  elapsed  when  I  felt 
rather  bored,  or  sorry  that  there  was  no  one  to  see  me 
in  that  dazzling  state  ;  and  I  craved  movement  and 
activity.  As  a  consequence  of  this,  I  ordered  the 
drozhky  to  be  brought  round,  and  decided  that  it  would 
be  better  to  go  to  the  Kuznetzky  Most,^  and  make  some 
purchases. 

I  recollected  that  when  Volodya  entered  the  univer- 
sity he  had  bought  himself  a  lithograph  of  Victor 
Adam's  horses,  some  tobacco,  and  a  pipe ;  and  it 
seemed  to  me  that  it  was  indispensable  that  I  should 
do  the  same. 

I  drove  to  the  Kuznetzky  Most  with  glances  turned 
on  me  from  all  sides,  with  the  bright  sunlight  on  my 
buttons,  on  the  cockade  in  my  hat,  and  on  my  sword, 

1  The  Smith's  Bridge;  the  principal  street  for  fashionable  shopping  in 
Moscow.  — Tr, 


242  YOUTH 

and  drew  up  near  Daziaro's  picture-shop.  I  glanced 
about  me  on  all  sides,  and  entered.  I  did  not  want  to 
buy  Victor  Adam's  horses,  lest  I  should  be  accused  of 
aping  Volodya ;  but,  hurrying  to  make  my  choice  as 
quickly  as  possible,  out  of  shame  at  the  trouble  to  which 
I  was  putting  the  polite  shopman,  I  took  a  female  head 
painted  in  water-colors,  which  stood  in  the  window,  and 
paid  twenty  rubles  for  it.  But  after  expending  twenty 
rubles  I  felt  rather  conscience-stricken  at  having  troubled 
the  two  handsomely  dressed  shopmen  with  such  trifles, 
and  yet  it  seemed  as  though  they  looked  at  me  in  alto- 
gether too  negligent  a  way.  Desirous  of  letting  them 
understand  who  I  was,  I  turned  my  attention  to  a  small 
silver  piece  which  lay  beneath  the  glass,  and,  learn- 
ing that  it  was  a  pencil-holder  worth  eighteen  rubles, 
I  ordered  it  done  up  in  paper,  paid  my  money,  and, 
learning  also  that  good  pipes  and  tobacco  were  to  be 
had  in  the  adjoining  tobacco-shop,  I  bowed  politely  to 
the  two  shopmen,  and  stepped  into  the  street  with  my 
picture  under  my  arm.  In  the  neighboring  shop,  on 
whose  sign  was  painted  a  negro  smoking  a  cigar,  I 
bought  (also  out  of  a  desire  not  to  imitate  any  one)  not 
Zhukoff,  but  Sultan  tobacco,  a  Turkish  pipe,  and  two 
chibouks,  one  of  linden,  the  other  of  rosewood.  On 
emerging  from  the  shop,  on  my  way  to  my  drozhky,  I 
perceived  Semenoff,  who  was  walking  along  the  side- 
walk at  a  rapid  pace,  dressed  in  civil  costume,  and  with 
his  head  bent  down.  I  was  vexed  that  he  did  not  recog- 
nize me.  I  said  in  quite  a  loud  tone,  "  Drive  up  !  "  and, 
seating  myself  in  the  drozhky,  I  overtook  Semenoff. 

"  How  do  you  do  ? "  I  said  to  him. 

"My  respects,"  he  answered,  pursuing  his  way. 

"  Why  are  you  not  in  uniform  ?  "  I  inquired. 

Semenoff  halted,  screwed  up  his  eyes,  and  showed 
his  white  teeth,  as  though  it  pained  him  to  look  at  the 
sun,  but  in  reality  to  express  his  indifference  toward 
my  drozhky  and  uniform,  gazed  at  me  in  silence,  and 
walked  on. 

From  the  Kuznetzky  Most  I  drove  to  a  confection- 
er's shop  on  the  Tverskoy  ;  and  though  I  tried  to  pre- 


YOUTH  243 

tend  that  the  newspapers  in  the  shop  interested  me 
principally,  I  could  not  restrain  myself,  and  I  began  to 
devour  one  sweet  tart  after  another.  Although  I  was 
ashamed  before  the  gentlemen  who  gazed  at  me  with 
curiosity  from  behind  their  papers,  I  ate  eight  cakes, 
of  all  the  sorts  which  were  in  the  shop,  with  great 
rapidity. 

On  arriving  at  home,  I  felt  a  little  heartburn,  but, 
paying  no  attention  to  it,  I  busied  myself  with  examin- 
ing my  purchases.  The  picture  so  displeased  me,  that 
I  not  only  did  not  have  it  framed,  and  hang  it  in  my 
room,  as  Volodya  had  done,  but  I  even  hid  it  behind 
the  chest  of  drawers,  where  no  one  could  see  it.  The 
porte-crayon  did  not  please  me  either,  now  that  I  had 
got  it  home.  I  laid  it  on  the  table,  comforting  myself 
with  the  thought  that  the  thing  was  made  of  silver,  first- 
class,  and  extremely  useful  to  a  student. 

But  I  resolved  to  put  my  smoking  utensils  into  imme- 
diate use,  and  try  them. 

Having  unsealed  a  quarter-pound  package,  and  care- 
fully filled  my  Turkish  pipe  with  the  reddish-yellow, 
fine-cut  Sultan  tobacco,  I  laid  a  burning  coal  upon  it,  and 
taking  one  of  my  pipe-stems  between  my  middle  and  third 
fingers  (the  position  of  the  hand  pleased  me  extremely), 
I  began  to  draw  in  the  smoke. 

The  odor  of  the  tobacco  was  very  agreeable,  but  my 
mouth  tasted  bitter,  and  my  breathing  was  interrupted. 
But  I  took  courage,  and  drew  the  smoke  into  myself  for 
quite  a  long  time,  tried  to  puff  it  out  in  rings,  and  draw 
the  smoke  in.  The  whole  room  was  soon  filled  with 
clouds  of  bluish  smoke ;  the  pipe  began  to  bubble,  the 
hot  tobacco  to  leap  ;  I  felt  a  bitterness  in  my  mouth,  and 
a  slight  swimming  in  my  head  ;  I  tried  to  rise,  and  look 
at  myself  in  the  glass  with  my  pipe  ;  when,  to  my  amaze- 
ment, I  began  to  stagger,  the  room  whirled  round,  and 
as  I  glanced  in  the  mirror,  which  I  had  reached  with 
difficulty,  I  saw  that  my  face  was  as  pale  as  a  sheet.  I 
barely  succeeded  in  dropping  upon  a  divan,  when  I  was 
sensible  of  such  illness  and  feebleness,  that,  fancying 
the  pipe  had  been  fatal  to  me,  I  thought   that  I  was 


244  YOUTH 

dying.  I  was  seriously  alarmed,  and  wanted  to  summon 
assistance,  and  send  for  the  doctor. 

But  this  terror  did  not  last  long.  I  quickly  under- 
stood where  the  trouble  was  ;  and  I  lay  for  a  long  time 
on  the  lounge,  weak,  with  a  frightful  pain  in  my  head, 
gazing  with  dull  attention  at  Bostandzhoglo's  coat  of 
arms  delineated  upon  the  quarter-pound  package,  on  the 
pipe  and  cigar  ends,  and  the  remains  of  the  confectioner's 
cakes  rolling  on  the  floor,  and  thought  sadly  in  my  dis- 
enchantment, "  I  surely  am  not  grown  up  yet,  if  I  can- 
not smoke  like  other  people  ;  and  it  is  plain  that  it  is  not 
my  fate  to  hold  my  pipe,  like  others,  between  my  middle 
and  my  third  fingers,  to  swallow  my  smoke,  and  puff  it 
out  through  my  blond  mustache." 

When  Dmitry  came  for  me  at  five  o'clock,  he  found 
me  in  this  unpleasant  condition.  But  after  I  had  drunk 
a  glass  of  water  I  was  nearly  well  again,  and  ready  to  go 
with  him. 

"  What  made  you  want  to  smoke  ? "  he  said,  as  he 
gazed,  upon  the  traces  of  my  smoking  ;  "  it 's  all  non- 
sense, and  a  useless  waste  of  money.  I  have  promised 
myself  that  I  will  never  smoke.  However,  let 's  set  out 
as  quickly  as  possible,  for  we  must  go  after  Dubkoff." 


CHAPTER    XIV 

HOV^r    VOLODYA    AND    DUBKOFF    OCCUPIED    THEMSELVES 

As  soon  as  Dmitry  entered  the  room,  I  knew  by  his 
face,  his  walk,  and  by  a  gesture  which  was  peculiar  to 
him  when  in  a  bad  humor,  —  a  winking  of  the  eyes  and 
a  grotesque  way  of  drawing  his  head  down  on  one  side, 
as  though  for  the  purpose  of  adjusting  his  cravat, — 
that  he  was  in  the  coldly  rigid  frame  of  mind  which 
came  over  him  when  he  was  displeased  with  himself, 
and  which  always  produced  a  chilling  effect  upon  my 
feeling  for  him.  I  had  lately  begun  to  notice  and  judge 
my  friend's  character,  but  our  friendship  had  suffered  no 
change  in  consequence  ;  it  was  still  so  youthful  and  so 


YOUTH  245 

strong,  that,  from  whatever  point  of  view  I  looked  at 
Dmitry,  I  could  not  but  perceive  his  perfection.  There 
were  two  separate  men  in  him,  both  of  whom  were  very 
fine  in  my  eyes.  One,  whom  I  warmly  loved,  was  cour- 
teous, good,  gentle,  merry,  and  with  a  consciousness  of 
these  amiable  qualities  ;  when  he  was  in  this  mood,  his 
whole  appearance,  the  sound  of  his  voice,  his  every 
movement,  seemed  to  say,  "  I  am  gentle  and  virtuous  ; 
I  enjoy  being  gentle  and  virtuous,  as  you  can  all  of  you 
perceive."  The  other  —  I  have  only  now  begun  to  com- 
prehend him  and  to  bow  before  his  grandeur  —  was 
cold,  stern  toward  himself  and  others,  proud,  religious 
to  fanaticism,  and  pedantically  moral.  At  the  present 
moment,  he  was  that  second  man. 

With  the  frankness  which  constituted  the  indispen- 
sable condition  of  our  relations,  I  told  him,  when  we 
were  seated  in  the  drozhky,  that  it  pained  me  and  made 
me  sad  to  see  him  in  such  a  heavy,  disagreeable  frame 
of  mind  toward  me  on  the  day  which  was  such  a  happy 
one  to  me. 

"  Surely  something  has  disturbed  you  ;  why  will  you 
not  tell  me  .''  "  I  asked. 

"  Nikolenka ! "  he  replied  deliberately,  turning  his. 
head  nervously  to  one  side,  and  blinking,  "  since  I 
have  given  my  word  not  to  hide  anything  from  you, 
you  have  no  cause  to  suspect  me  of  secrecy.  It  is  im- 
possible to  be  always  in  the  same  mood  ;  and  if  any- 
thing has  disturbed  me,  I  cannot  even  give  an  account 
of  it  to  myself." 

"What  a  wonderfully  frank,  honorable  character!" 
I  thought,  and  I  said  no  more  to  him. 

We  drove  to  Dubkoff's  in  silence.  Dubkoff's  quarters 
were  remarkably  handsome,  or  seemed  so  to  me.  There 
were  rugs,  pictures,  curtains,  highly  colored  wall-paper, 
portraits,  curving  arm-chairs,  and  sofa-chairs  everywhere  ; 
on  the  walls  hung  guns,  pistols,  tobacco-pouches,  and 
some  heads  of  wild  animals  in  cardboard.  At  the  sight 
of  this  study,  I  saw  whom  Volodya  had  been  imitating 
in  the  adornment  of  his  own  chamber.  We  found  Volo- 
dya and  Dubkoff  playing  cards.     A  gentleman  who  was 


246  YOUTH 

a  stranger  to  me  (and  who  must  have  been  of  little  im- 
portance, judging  from  his  humble  attitude)  was  sitting 
at  the  table,  and  watching  the  game  with  great  atten- 
tion. Dubkoff  had  on  a  silk  dressing-gown  and  soft 
shoes.  Volodya  in  his  shirt-sleeves  was  sitting  opposite 
him  on  the  divan  ;  and,  judging  from  his  flushed  face, 
and  the  dissatisfied,  fleeting  glance  which  he  tore  away 
from  the  cards  for  a  moment  to  cast  at  us,  he  was  very 
much  absorbed  in  the  game.  On  catching  sight  of  me, 
he  turned  still  redder. 

"  Come,  it 's  your  turn  to  deal,"  he  said  to  Dubkoff. 
I  comprehended  that  it  displeased  him  to  have  me  know 
that  he  played  cards.  But  there  was  no  confusion  dis- 
cernible in  his  glance,  which  seemed  to  say  to  me,  "  Yes, 
I  'm  playing,  and  you  are  only  surprised  at  it  because 
you  are  young  yet.  It  is  not  only  not  bad,  but  even 
necessary  at  our  age." 

I  immediately  felt  and  understood  this. 

Dubkoff  did  not  deal  the  cards,  however,  but  rose, 
shook  hands  with  us,  gave  us  seats,  and  offered  us  pipes, 
which  we  declined. 

"  So  this  is  our  diplomat,  the  hero  of  the  festival ! " 
said  Dubkoff.  "  By  heavens,  he  's  awfully  like  a  colo- 
nel." 

"  Hm  !  "  I  growled,  as  I  felt  that  foolishly  self-satisfied 
smile  spreading  over  my  face. 

I  respected  Dubkoff  as  only  a  boy  of  sixteen  can 
respect  an  adjutant  of  twenty-seven  whom  all  the 
grown-up  people  declare  to  be  a  very  fine  young  man, 
who  dances  beautifully,  and  talks  French,  and  who, 
while  he  in  his  soul  despises  my  youth,  evidently 
strives  to  conceal  the  fact. 

But  in  spite  of  all  my  respect  for  him,  I  had  always, 
Heaven  knows  why,  during  the  whole  period  of  our 
acquaintance,  found  it  difficult  and  awkward  to  look 
him  in  the  eye.  And  I  have  since  observed  that  there 
are  three  classes  of  people  whom  it  is  difficult  for  me  to 
look  in  the  eye,  —  those  who  are  much  worse  than  myself ; 
those  who  are  much  better  than  myself ;  and  those  with 
whom  I  cannot  make  up  my  mind  to  mention  things 


YOUTH  247 

that  we  both  know,  and  who  will  not  mention  them  to 
me.  Possibly  Dubkoff  was  better  than  I,  perhaps  he 
was  worse  ;  but  one  thing  was  certain,  that  he  often 
lied,  but  without  confessing  it ;  that  I  detected  this 
weakness  in  him,  of  course,  but  could  not  bring  myself 
to  speak  of  it. 

"  Let 's  play  one  more  game,"  said  Volodya,  twisting 
his  shoulders  like  papa,  and  shuffling  the  cards. 

"  How  persistent  he  is  !  "  said  Dubkoff.  "  We  '11  play 
it  out  later.     Well,  all  right,  then,  one." 

While  they  played,  I  watched  their  hands.  Volodya 
had  a  large,  handsome  hand.  He  separated  his  thumb 
and  bent  the  other  fingers  out  when  he  held  his  cards, 
and  it  was  so  much  like  papa's  hand  that  at  one  time  it 
really  seemed  to  me  that  Volodya  held  his  hands  so  on 
purpose,  in  order  to  resemble  a  grown-up  person  ;  but, 
when  I  glanced  at  his  face,  it  immediately  became  evi- 
dent that  he  was  thinking  of  nothing  except  his  game. 
Dubkoff's  hands,  on  the  contrary,  were  small,  plump, 
bent  inwards,  and  had  extremely  soft  and  skilful  fin- 
gers ;  just  the  kind  of  hands,  in  fact,  which  wear  rings, 
and  which  belong  to  people  who  are  inclined  to  manual 
labor,  and  are  fond  of  having  fine  things. 

Volodya  must  have  lost ;  for  the  gentleman  who  looked 
over  his  cards  remarked  that  Vladimir  Petrovitch  had 
frightfully  bad  luck ;  and  Dubkoff  got  his  pocket-book, 
and  noted  something  down  in  it,  and  said,  as  he  showed 
what  he  had  written  to  Volodya,  "  Is  that  right  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Volodya,  glancing  at  the  note-book  with 
feigned  abstraction.      "  Now  let 's  go." 

Volodya  drove  Dubkoff,  and  Dmitry  took  me  in  his 
phaeton. 

"  What  were  they  playing  ?  "  I  inquired  of  Dmitry. 

"  Piquet.  It 's  a  stupid  game,  and  gambling  is  a  stupid 
thing,  anyway." 

"  Do  they  play  for  large  sums  .-' " 

"  Not  very  ;  but  it 's  not  right,  all  the  same." 

"  And  do  you  not  play  .'* " 

"  No,  I  have  given  my  word  not  to ;  but  Dubkoff 
can't  give  his  not  to  win  all  somebody's  money  away." 


248  YOUTH 

"But  that  surely  is  not  right  on  his  part,"  said  I, 
"Volodya  must  play  worse  than  he." 

"  Of  course  it 's  not  right ;  but  there  's  nothing  par- 
ticularly wicked  about  it.  Dubkoff  loves  to  play,  but 
still  he's  an  excellent  fellow." 

"But  I  had  no  idea...."  said  I. 

"  You  must  not  think  any  ill  of  him,  because  he  really 
is  a  very  fine  man  ;  and  I  am  very  fond  of  him,  and  shall 
always  love  him  in  spite  of  his  weaknesses." 

It  seemed  to  me,  for  some  reason,  that,  just  because 
Dmitry  stood  up  for  Dubkoff  with  too  much  warmth,  he 
no  longer  loved  or  respected  him,  but  that  he  would  not 
confess  it,  out  of  obstinacy,  and  in  order  that  no  one 
might  reproach  him  with  fickleness.  He  was  one  of 
those  people  who  love  their  friends  for  life,  not  so  much 
because  the  friends  always  remain  amiable  toward  them, 
as  because,  having  once  taken  a  liking  to  a  man,  even  by 
mistake,  they  consider  it  dishonorable  to  cease  to  like 
him. 


CHAPTER   XV 

I    RECEIVE    CONGRATULATIONS 

Dubkoff  and  Volodya  knew  all  the  people  at  Jahr's 
by  name ;  and  every  one,  from  porter  to  proprietor, 
showed  them  the  greatest  respect.  We  were  immedi- 
ately assigned  to  a  private  room,  and  served  with  a  won- 
derful dinner,  selected  by  Dubkoff  from  the  French  bill 
of  fare.  A  bottle  of  iced  champagne,  which  I  endeav- 
ored to  survey  with  as  much  indifference  as  possible, 
was  already  prepared.  The  dinner  passed  off  very 
agreeably  and  merrily,  although  Dubkoff,  as  was  his 
custom,  related  the  strangest  occurrences  as  though 
they  were  true,  —  among  others,  how  his  grandmother 
had  shot  three  robbers,  who  had  attacked  her,  with  a 
blunderbuss  (whereupon  I  blushed,  dropped  my  eyes, 
and  turned  away  from  him), — and  although  Volodya 
was  visibly  frightened  every  time  that  I  undertook  to 


YOUTH  249 

jay  anything  (which  was  quite  superfluous,  for  I  did 
not  say  anything-  particularly  disgraceful,  so  far  as  I  can 
remember).  When  the  champagne  was  served,  all  con- 
gratulated me,  and  I  drank  through  my  hand  "to  thou  " 
with  Dubkoff  and  Dmitry,  and  exchanged  kisses  with 
them.  As  I  did  not  know  to  whom  the  bottle  of  cham- 
pagne belonged  (it  was  in  common,  as  they  afterward 
explained  to  me),  and  I  wanted  to  entertain  my  friends 
on  my  own  money,  which  I  felt  of  incessantly  in  my 
pocket,  I  quietly  got  hold  of  a  ten-ruble  note  ;  and,  sum- 
moning the  waiter,  I  gave  him  the  money,  and  told  him 
in  a  whisper,  but  in  such  a  manner  as  they  all  heard  it, 
to  please  to  bring  another  small  half  bottle  of  champagne. 
Volodya  turned  red,  writhed,  and  looked  at  me  and  the 
rest  in  such  affright  that  I  felt  I  had  committed  a  blun- 
der ;  but  the  bottle  was  brought,  and  we  drank  it  with 
the  greatest  satisfaction.  Things  continued  to  go  mer- 
rily. Dubkoff  lied  without  intermission  ;  and  Volodya, 
too,  told  such  funny  stories,  and  told  them  better  than 
I  had  ever  expected  of  him  ;  and  we  laughed  a  great 
deal.  The  character  of  their  wit  —  that  is,  Dubkoff's 
and  Volodya's  —  consisted  in  mimicry,  and  exaggeration 
of  the  well-known  anecdote :  "  Well,  have  you  been 
abroad  .-* "  says  one.  "No,  I  have  not,"  replies  the  other, 
"but  my  brother  plays  on  the  violin."  They  had 
attained  such  perfection  in  this  sort  of  comic  nonsense, 
that  they  even  related  that  anecdote  thus  :  "  My  brother 
never  played  on  the  violin  either."  They  replied  to 
every  one  of  each  other's  questions  in  this  style ;  and 
sometimes  they  tried,  without  questions,  to  join  two 
utterly  incongruous  things,  —  talked  this  nonsense  with 
sober  faces,  —  and  it  proved  extremely  laughable.  I 
began  to  understand  the  point  and  I  also  tried  to  tell 
something  funny  ;  but  they  all  looked  frightened,  or 
tried  not  to  look  at  me  while  I  was  speaking,  and  the 
anecdote  was  not  a  success.  Dubkoff  said,  "The  diplo- 
mat has  begun  to  lie,  brother ;  "  but  I  felt  so  well  with 
the  champagne  I  had  drunk,  and  in  the  company  of 
these  grown-up  people,  that  this  remark  hardly  wounded 
me  at  all.     Dmitry  alone,  though  he  had  drunk  evenly 


250 


YOUTH 


with  us,  continued  in  the  stern,  serious  mood,  which  put 
some  restraint  upon  the  general  merriment. 

"Now  listen,  gentlemen!"  said  Dubkoff.  "After 
dinner,  the  diplomat  must  be  taken  in  hand.  Shall  we 
not  go  to  our  aiinfs  ?     We  '11  soon  settle  him  there." 

"  Nekhliudoff  won't  go,"  said  Volodya. 

"  The  intolerable  goody !  You  're  an  intolerable 
goody,"  said  Dubkoff,  turning  to  him.  "  Come  with  us, 
and  you  '11  see  what  a  charming  lady  auntie  is." 

"  I  not  only  will  not  go,  but  I  won't  let  him,"  an- 
swered Dmitry,  turning  red. 

"  Who  }  the  diplomat .''  —  Do  you  want  to  go,  diplo- 
mat }  Look,  he  beamed  all  over  as  soon  as  we  mentioned 
auntie." 

"  I  don't  mean  that  I  won't  let  him,"  continued 
Dmitry,  rising  from  his  seat,  and  beginning  to  pace  the 
room,  without  looking  at  me,  "but  I  do  not  advise  him 
nor  wish  him  to  go.  He  is  no  longer  a  child,  and  if  he 
wishes  he  can  go  alone  without  you.  But  you  ought  to 
be  ashamed  of  yourself,  Dubkoff ;  what  you  are  doing 
is  not  right,  and  you  want  others  to  do  so  too." 

"What's  the  harm,"  said  Dubkoff,  winking  at  Vo- 
lodya, "  if  I  invite  you  all  to  my  aunt's  for  a  cup  of  tea } 
Well,  if  it 's  not  agreeable  to  you  to  go  with  us,  then 
Volodya  and  I  will  go. — Are  you  coming,  Volodya.'*" 

"  Hm !  "  said  Volodya,  affirmatively.  "  We  '11  go  there, 
and  then  we  '11  come  to  my  rooms,  and  go  on  with  our 
piquet." 

"  Well,  do  you  want  to  go  with  them,  or  not  1 "  said 
Dmitry,  coming  up  to  me. 

"  No,"  I  answered,  moving  along  on  the  divan  to 
make  room  for  him  beside  me ;  "  if  you  do  not  advise  it, 
I  will  not  go,  on  any  account. 

"No,"  I  added  afterward,  "I  do  not  speak  the  truth 
when  I  say  that  I  do  not  want  to  go  with  them  ;  but  I 
am  glad  that  I  am  not  going." 

"  Excellent,"  said  he ;  "  live  according  to  your  own 
ideas,  and  don't  dance  to  any  one's  pipe  ;  that  's  the 
best  way  of  all." 

This  little  dispute  not  only  did  not  disturb  our  pleas- 


YOUTH  251 

lire,  but  even  heightened  it.  Dmitry  all  at  once  came 
into  the  gentle  mood  which  I  loved  so  well.  Such  an 
influence,  as  I  afterward  more  than  once  observed,  did 
the  consciousness  of  a  good  deed  have  upon  him.  He 
v/as  pleased  with  himself  now  for  having  deterred  me 
from  going.  He  grew  very  merry,  ordered  another 
bottle  of  champagne  (which  was  against  his  rules),  called 
a  strange  gentleman  into  the  room  and  began  to  give 
him  wine,  sang  Gmideanuis  igittu\  requested  all  should 
join  in,  and  proposed  to  ride  to  Sokolniki,^  whereupon 
Dubkoff  remarked  that  it  was  too  sentimental. 

"  Let 's  be  jolly  to-day,"  said  Dmitry,  with  a  smile ; 
"in  honor  of  his  entrance  to  the  university,  I  will  get 
drunk  for  the  first  time  ;  so  be  it."  This  gayety  sat 
rather  strangely  on  Dmitry.  He  resembled  a  tutor  or 
a  kind  father  who  is  satisfied  with  his  children,  and 
wishes  to  please  them,  and  at  the  same  time  to  show 
that  he  can  be  gay  in  an  honorable  and  respectable 
fashion ;  nevertheless,  this  unexpected  mirth  seemed  to 
act  infectiously  upon  us,  the  more  so  as  each  of  us  had 
drunk  about  half  a  bottle  of  champagne. 

It  was  in  this  agreeable  frame  of  mind  that  I  stepped 
out  into  the  public  apartment  to  smoke  a  cigarette  which 
Dubkoff  had  given  me. 

When  I  rose  from  my  seat,  I  perceived  that  my  head 
was  a  little  unsteady,  and  that  my  feet  walked  and  my 
hands  were  in  a  natural  condition  only  when  I  fixed  my 
attention  firmly  upon  them.  Otherwise  my  feet  crept 
off  to  one  side,  and  my  hands  executed  various  gestures. 
I  fixed  my  whole  attention  upon  these  limbs,  ordered 
my  hands  to  rise,  and  button  my  coat,  and  smooth  my 
hair  (in  the  course  of  which,  my  elbows  jerked  them- 
selves up  fearfully  high),  and  my  legs  to  carry  me  to 
the  door,;  which  command  they  complied  with,  but  set 
themselves  down  either  too  hard  or  too  gently,  and  the 
left  foot  in  particular  stood  constantly  on  its  toe. 
Some  voice  or  other  shouted  to  me,  "  Where  are  you 

1  "  Sokolniki  Forest,"  now  a  suburban  park,  pine  wood,  and  pleasure 
ground  near  Moscow  ;  formerly  the  primeval  forest,  the  hunting-ground  of 
the  Tzars  of  Moscow.  —  Tr. 


252 


YOUTH 


going  ?  They  are  bringing  lights."  I  guessed  that  the 
voice  belonged  to  Volodya,  and  the  thought  that  I  had 
guessed  it  afforded  me  satisfaction  ;  but  I  only  smiled 
in  answer,  and  went  my  way. 


-    CHAPTER   XVI 

THE    QUARREL 

In  the  public  room,  behind  a  little  table,  sat  a  short, 
stout  gentleman,  in  plain  clothes,  with  a  red  mustache, 
engaged  in  eating.  Beside  him  sat  a  tall,  dark-com- 
plexioned man,  without  a  mustache.  They  were  con- 
versing in  French.  Their  glances  confused  me,  but 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  light  my  cigarette  at  the  candle 
which  stood  before  them.  Glancing  aside,  in  order  that 
I  might  not  encounter  their  gaze,  I  marched  up  to  the 
table,  and  began  to  light  my  cigarette.  When  the 
cigarette  had  caught  the  flame,  I  could  not  resist,  and 
glanced  at  the  gentleman  who  was  dining.  His  gray 
eyes  were  fixed  intently  and  disapprovingly  upon  me. 
As  I  was  about  to  turn  away,  his  red  mustache  moved, 
and  he  said  in  French,  "  I  don't  like  to  have  people 
smoke  while  I  am  dining,  my  dear  sir." 

I  muttered  some  unintelligible  reply. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  don't  like  it,"  went  on  the  gentleman 
with  the  mustache,  sternly,  with  a  quick  glance  at  the 
gentleman  who  had  no  mustache,  as  if  inviting  him  to 
admire  the  manner  in  which  he  was  about  to  settle  me, 
—  "I  don't  like  people  who  are  impolite,  my  dear  sir, 
who  come  and  smoke  under  one's  nose ;  I  don't  like 
them."  I  immediately  saw  that  the  gentleman  was 
scolding  me,  and  it  seemed  to  me  at  first  that  I  had 
behaved  very  badly  to  him. 

"  I  did  not  think  that  it  would  disturb  you,"  said  I. 

"Ah,  you  did  not  think  you  were  ill-bred,  but  I  did  ! " 
shouted  the  gentleman. 

"  What  right  have  you  to  yell  ? "  said  I,  feeling  that 
he  was  insulting  me,  and  beginning  to  get  angry  myself. 


YOUTH 


^53 


"  This  right,  that  I  never  permit  any  one  to  be  insolent 
to  me  ;  and  I  shall  always  give  such  impertinent  young 
fellows  as  you  a  lesson.  What 's  your  surname,  sir  ?  and 
where  do  you  live  ?  " 

I  was  extremely  angry,  my  lips  quivered,  and  my 
breath  came  in  gasps.  But  I  felt  that  I  was  in  the 
wrong,  nevertheless,  and  it  must  have  been  because  I 
had  drunk  so  much  champagne  ;  and  I  did  not  say  any- 
thing insulting  to  the  gentleman,  but  on  the  contrary 
my  lips  uttered  my  name  and  our  address  in  the  most 
submissive  manner  possible. 

"  My  name  is  Kolpikoff,  my  dear  sir,  and  see  that  you 
are  more  courteous  in  future.  You  shall  hear  from  me," 
he  concluded,  the  whole  conversation  having  taken  place 
in  French. 

I  only  said,  "  I  am  very  glad  to  make  your  acquain- 
tance," endeavoring  to  render  my  voice  as  firm  as  possi- 
ble, turned  away,  and  went  back  to  our  room  with  my 
cigarette,  which  had  contrived  to  go  out. 

I  did  not  mention  what  had  occurred  to  my  brother, 
nor  to  my  friend,  particularly  as  they  were  engaged  in 
a  hot  dispute,  but  seated  myself  alone  in  a  corner  to 
reflect  upon  this  strange  circumstance.  The  words, 
"You  are  ill-bred,  sir," — (ini  j/ia/  eleve,  monsieur)  — 
as  they  rang  in  my  ears,  troubled  me  more  and  xnore. 
My  intoxication  had  completely  passed  away.  When 
I  reflected  on  my  behavior  in  the  matter,  the  strange 
thought  all  at  once  occurred  to  me  that  I  had  behaved 
like  a  coward.  "  What  right  had  he  to  attack  me  .-* 
Why  did  n't  he  say  simply  that  it  disturbed  him  t  He 
must  have  been  in  the  wrong.  Why,  when  he  told. me 
that  I  was  ill-bred,  did  I  not  say  to  him,  '  He  is  ill-bred, 
sir,  who  permits  himself  impertinences;'  or  why  did  I  not 
simply  shout  at  him,  '  Silence  !  '  That  would  have^been 
capital.  Why  did  I  not  challenge  him  to  a  duel .''  No, 
I  did  none  of  these  things,  but  swallowed  the  insult  like 
a  vile  coward."  "You  are  ill-bred,  sir,"  rang  in  my  ears 
incessantly  in  an  exasperating  way.  "  No,  things  cannot 
be  left  in  this  state,"  I  thought,  and  I  rose  with  the 
fi.xed  intention  of  going  back  to  the  gentleman,  and  say- 


254 


YOUTH 


ing  something  dreadful  to  him,  and,  possibly,  of  striking 
him  over  the  head  with  the  candlestick  if  it  should  seem 
suitable.  I  reflected  upon  this  last  intention  with  the 
greatest  delight,  but  it  was  not  without  great  terror  that 
I  entered  the  public  room  again.  Fortunately,  Gos- 
podin  (Mr.)  Kolpikoff  was  no  longer  there;  there  was 
but  one  waiter  in  the  room,  and  he  was  clearing  the 
table.  I  wanted  to  tell  the  waiter  what  had  happened, 
and  to  explain  to  him  that  I  was  not  all  to  blame ;  but  I 
changed  my  mind  for  some  reason  or  other,  and  returned 
again  to  our  own  room  in  the  most  gloomy  frame  of 
mind. 

"What 's  the  matter  with  our  diplomat  ?  "  said  Dubkoff ; 
"he's  probably  deciding  the  fate  of  Europe  now." 

"  Oh,  let  me  alone,"  I  said  crossly,  as  I  turned  away. 
Then,  as  I  wandered  about  the  room,  I  began  to  think, 
for  some  reason,  that  Dubkoff  was  not  a  nice  man  at 
all.  And  as  for  his  eternal  jests,  and  that  nickname  of 
"  diplomat,"  there  was  nothing  amiable  about  them.  All 
he  was  good  for  was  to  win  money  from  Volodya,  and 
to  go  to  some  aunt  or  other.  And  there  was  nothing 
pleasing  about  him.  Everything  he  said  was  a  lie,  or 
an  absurdity,  and  he  wanted  to  laugh  eternally.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  he  was  only  stupid,  and  a  bad  man 
to  boot.  In  such  reflections  as  these  I  spent  five  minutes, 
feeling  more  and  more  inimical  toward  Dubkoff.  But 
Dubkoff  paid  no  attention  to  me,  and  this  enraged  me 
still  more.  I  even  got  angry  with  Volodya  and  Dmitry 
because  they  talked  to  him. 

"  Do  you  know  what,  gentlemen.-'  we  must  pour  some 
water  over  the  diplomat,"  said  Dubkoff,  suddenly,  glanc- 
ing at  me  with  what  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  mocking  and 
even  treacherous  smile  ;  "  he  's  in  a  bad  way.  By  heav- 
ens, but  he  's  in  a  state  !  " 

"  You  need  to  be  ducked,  you  're  in  a  bad  way  your- 
self," I  retorted,  with  an  angry  smile,  even  forgetting 
that  I  had  addressed  him  as  j/ozi. 

This  answer  must  have  amazed  Dubkoff ;  but  he 
turned  away  from  me  indifferently,  and  continued  his 
conversation  with  Volodya  and  Dmitry. 


YOUTH  255 

I  would  have  tried  to  join  the  conversation,  but  I  felt 
that  I  certainly  should  not  be  able  to  dissemble,  and  I 
again  retreated  to  my  corner,  where  I  remained  until 
our  departure. 

When  we  had  paid  the  bill,  and  were  putting  on  our 
overcoats,  Dubkoff  said  to  Dmitry,  "  Well,  where  are 
Orestes  and  Pylades  going?  Home,  probably,  to  con- 
verse of  love.  All  right,  we  '11  call  on  our  dear  auntie  : 
it 's  better  than  your  sour  friendship." 

"  How  dare  you  talk  so,  and  ridicule  us .-' "  I  said,  sud- 
denly marching  up  to  him  and  gesticulating.  "  How 
dare  you  laugh  at  feelings  that  you  don't  understand  } 
I  won't  permit  it.  Silence  ! "  I  shouted,  and  became 
silent  myself,  not  knowing  what  to  say,  and  panting 
with  agitation.  Dubkoff  was  amazed  at  first ;  then  he 
tried  to  smile,  and  took  it  as  a  joke  ;  but  finally,  to  my 
extreme  surprise,  he  got  frightened  and  dropped  his  eyes. 

"I  am  not  ridiculing  you  and  your  feelings  in  the 
least;  it's  only  my  way  of  talking,"  he  said  evasively. 

"So  that 's  it,"  I  shouted  ;  but  at  the  same  time  I  was 
ashamed  of  myself,  and  sorry  for  Dubkoff,  whose  hand- 
some, troubled  face  betrayed  genuine  suffering. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you.?"  asked  Volodya  and 
Dmitry  together.      "Nobody  meant  to  insult  you." 

"Yes,  he  did  mean  to  insult  me." 

"That  brother  of  yours  is  a  desperate  gentleman," 
said  Dubkoff,  just  as  he  went  out  of  the  door,  so  that 
he  could  not  hear  what  I  might  say. 

Possibly,  I  might  have  rushed  after  him,  and  uttered 
some  more  impertinent  speeches  ;  but,  just  at  that  mo- 
ment, the  same  waiter  who  had  been  present  at  my 
affair  with  Kolpikoff  handed  me  my  coat,  and  I  imme- 
diately calmed  down,  feigning  only  so  much  anger  in 
Dmitry's  presence  as  was  indispensable,  in  order  that 
my  instantaneous  tranquillity  might  not  seem  queer. 
The  next  day,  Dubkoff  and  I  met  in  Volodya's  room. 
We  did  not  allude  to  this  affair,  and  continued  to  address 
each  other  as  you ;  and  it  was  more  difficult  than  ever 
for  us  to  look  each  other  in  the  eye. 

The  memory  of  my  quarrel  with  Kolpikoff,  who  neither 


256  YOUTH 

on  that  day  nor  ever  afterward  let  me  "hear  from  him," 
was  frightfully  oppressive  and  vivid  for  many  years.  I 
writhed  and  screamed,  full  five  years  later,  every  time 
I  recalled  that  unatoned  insult,  and  comforted  my- 
self by  remembering,  with  self-satisfaction,  how  manly 
I  had  afterward  been  in  my  affair  with  Dubkoff.  It 
was  only  very  much  later  that  I  began  to  regard  the 
matter  in  quite  a  different  light,  and  to  recall  my  quarrel 
with  Kolpikoff  with  comical  satisfaction,  and  to  repent 
of  the  undeserved  wound  which  I  had  dealt  to  that 
good  little  fellow,  Dubkoff. 

When  I  related  to  Dmitry  that  same  day  my  en- 
counter with  Kolpikoff,  whose  appearance  I  described 
to  him  minutely,  he  was  very  much  surprised. 

"Yes,  it's  the  very  same  fellow,"  said  he.  "Just 
imagine !  that  Kolpikoff  is  a  well-known  scamp,  a  card- 
sharper,  but,  most  of  all,  a  coward,  who  was  driven  out 
of  the  regiment  by  his  comrades  because  he  had  re- 
ceived a  box  on  the  ear,  and  would  not  fight.  Where 
did  he  get  his  valor.-*"  he  added,  with  a  kindly  smile,  as 
he  glanced  at  me.  "  So  he  did  n't  say  anything  more 
than  '  ill-bred '.? " 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  reddening. 

"  It 's  bad  ;  but  there  's  no  harm  done  yet,"  Dmitry 
said,  to  console  me. 

It  was  only  when  I  thought  this  affair  over  quietly, 
long  afterward,  that  I  arrived  at  the  tolerably  probable 
inference  that  Kolpikoff,  feeling,  after  the  lapse  of  many 
years,  that  he  could  attack  me,  had  taken  his  revenge  on 
me,  in  the  presence  of  the  beardless,  dark-complexioned 
man,  for  the  box  on  the  ear  which  he  had  received,  just 
as  I  immediately  revenged  myself  for  his  "ill-bred"  on 
the  innocent  Dubkoff. 


YOUTH  257 


CHAPTER   XVII 

I  MAKE  PREPARATIONS  TO  PAY  SOME  CALLS 

My  first  thought,  on  waking  the  next  day,  was  my 
adventure  with  Kolpikoff.  Again  I  roared  and  ran 
about  the  room,  but  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  ; 
besides,  this  was  the  last  day  I  was  to  spend  in  Mos- 
cow ;  and,  by  papa's  orders,  I  was  to  make  some  calls 
which  he  had  himself  written  down  for  me.  Papa's 
solicitude  for  us  was  not  so  much  on  the  point  of 
morals  and  learning  as  on  that  of  worldly  connections. 
On  the  paper  was  written  in  his  rapid,  pointed  hand  : 
"(i)To  Prince  Ivan  lw:imtch.  ivit/io?if  fail ;  (2)  to  the 
Ivins  ivitliout  fail ;  (3)  to  Prince  Mikhailo ;  (4)  to  Prin- 
cess Nekhliudoff  and  Madame  Valakhin  if  possible ; "  and, 
of  course,  to  the  curator,  the  rector,  and  the  professors. 

Dmitry  dissuaded  me  from  paying  these  last  calls, 
saying  that  it  not  only  was  not  necessary,  but  would 
even  be  improper ;  but  all  the  rest  must  be  made  to- 
day. Of  these,  the  two  first  calls,  beside  which  with- 
out fail  v^7k's>  written,  frightened  me  particularly.  Prince 
Ivan  Ivanitch  was  general-in-chief,  an  old  man,  wealthy 
and  alone ;  so  I,  a  student  of  sixteen,  must  have  direct 
intercourse  with  him,  which  I  had  a  presentiment  could 
not  prove  at  all  flattering  to  me.  The  Ivins  also  were 
wealthy,  and  their  father  was  an  important  civil  general, 
who  had  only  been  to  our  home  once,  in  grandmamma's 
day.  After  grandmamma's  death,  I  observed  that  the 
youngest  Ivin  avoided  us,  and  seemed  to  put  on  airs. 
The  eldest,  as  I  knew  by  report,  had  already  completed 
his  course  in  law,  and  was  serving  in  Petersburg ;  the 
second  (SergieY),  whom  I  had  once  adored,  was  also  in 
Petersburg,  —  a  big,  fat  cadet  in  the  Pages'  Corps. 

In  my  youth,  I  not  only  did  not  like  to  associate  with 
people  who  considered  themselves  above  me,  but  such 
intercourse  was  intolerably  painful,  in  consequence  of  a 
constant  fear  of  insult,  and  the  straining  of  all  my  men- 
tal faculties  to  the  end  of  exhibiting  my  independence. 


258  YOUTH 

But,  as  I  was  not  going  to  obey  papa's  last  orders,  I 
must  smooth  matters  over  by  complying  with  the  first. 
I  paced  my  chamber,  glancing  at  my  clothes,  which 
were  spread  out  upon  the  chairs,  at  my  sword  and  hat, 
and  was  already  preparing  to  go,  when  old  Grap  came 
with  his  congratulations,  bringing  Ilinka  with  him. 
Father  Grap  was  a  Russianized  German,  intolerably 
mawkish  and  flattering,  and  very  often  intoxicated; 
He  generally  came  to  us  simply  for  the  purpose  of  ask- 
ing for  something ;  and  papa  sometimes  let  him  sit 
down  in  his  study,  but  he  never  had  him  dine  with  us. 
His  humility  and  persistent  begging  were  so  intermin- 
gled with  a  certain  superficial  good  nature  and  familiar- 
ity with  our  house,  that  everybody  reckoned  it  as  a  sort 
of  merit  in  him  that  he  should  be  so  attached  to  all  of 
us ;  but,  for  some  reason,  I  never  liked  him,  and,  when 
he  spoke,  I  always  felt  ashamed  for  him. 

I  was  very  much  displeased  at  the  arrival  of  these 
guests,  and  I  made  no  effort  to  conceal  my  displeasure. 
I  had  become  so  accustomed  to  look  down  upon  Ilinka, 
and  he  had  become  so  used  to  consider  that  we  were  in 
the  right  in  so  doing,  that  it  was  rather  disagreeable  for 
me  to  have  him  a  student  as  well  as  myself.  It  struck 
me,  too,  that  he  was  rather  abashed,  in  my  presence,  by 
this  equality.  I  greeted  them  coldly,  and  did  not  ask 
them  to  sit  down,  because  I  was  ashamed  to  do  so, 
thinking  that  they  might  do  it  without  my  invitation  ; 
and  I  ordered  my  carriage  to  be  got  ready.  Ilinka  was 
a  kind,  very  honorable,  and  very  far  from  stupid  young 
man,  but  he  was  still  what  is  called  a  man  of  caprice. 
Some  extreme  mood  was  always  coming  over  him,  and, 
as  it  appeared,  without  any  reason  whatever  ;  now  it  was 
a  weeping  mood,  then  an  inclination  to  laugh,  then  to 
take  offense  at  every  trifle.  And  now,  it  seemed,  he  was 
in  this  last  frame  of  mind.  He  said  nothing,  glanced 
angrily  at  me  and  his  father ;  and  only  when  he  was 
addressed  did  he  smile,  with  the  submissive,  constrained 
smile  under  which  he  was  already  accustomed  to  hide 
his  feelings,  and  especially  the  feeling  of  shame  for  his 
father,  which  he  could  not  help  feeling  in  our  presence, 


YOUTH  259 

"  So,  sir,  Nikolaf  Petrovitch,"  said  the  old  man,  fol- 
lowing me  about  the  room  while  I  dressed,  and  turning 
the  silver  snuff-box  which  grandmamma  had  given  him 
slowly  and  respectfully  between  his  fat  fingers,  "  as 
soon  as  I  learned  from  my  son  that  you  had  deigned  to 
pass  an  excellent  examination,  —  for  your  cleverness  is 
known  to  all,  —  I  immediately  hastened  hither  to  con- 
gratulate you,  batiushka  ;  why,  I  have  carried  you  on 
my  shoulder,  and  God  sees  that  I  love  you  all  like  rela- 
tives ;  and  my  Ilinka,  too,  kept  begging  to  be  allowed  to 
come  to  you.  He,  too,  has  already  become  accustomed 
to  you." 

Meantime,  Ilinka  sat  in  silence,  by  the  window,  appar- 
ently gazing  at  my  three-cornered  hat,  and  muttering 
something  angrily  and  almost  inaudibly. 

"  Now,  I  wanted  to  ask  you,  Nikolai  Petrovitch,"  con- 
tinued the  old  man,  "  did  my  Ilinka  pass  a  good  exami- 
nation ?  He  said  he  should  be  with  you,  so  do  not 
abandon  him  ;  look  after  him  and  advise  him." 

"Why,  he  passed  a  very  fine  one,"  I  replied,  glancing 
at  Ilinka,  who,  feeling  my  glance,  blushed  and  stopped 
moving  his  lips. 

"And  can  he  spend  the  day  with  you .'' "  said  the  old 
man,  with  a  timid  smile,  as  though  he  were  very  much 
afraid  of  me,  and  always  standing  so  close  to  me,  when- 
ever I  halted,  that  the  odor  of  wine  and  tobacco,  in  which 
he  was  steeped,  did  not  cease  for  a  single  second  to  be 
perceptible  to  me.  I  was  provoked  at  him  for  having 
placed  me  in  such  a  false  position  toward  his  son,  and 
because  he  had  diverted  my  attention  from  my  very  im- 
portant occupation  at  that  moment  —  dressing;  but 
most  of  all,  that  ever  present  odor  of  strong  brandy  so 
distracted  me,  that  I  said  very  coldly  that  I  could  not 
remain  with  Ilinka,  because  I  should  not  be  at  home  all 
day. 

"You  wanted  to  go  to  your  sister,  batiushka,"  said 
Ilinka,  smiling,  but  not  looking  at  me;  "and  I  have 
something  to  do  besides."  I  was  still  more  vexed  and 
mortified,  and,  in  order  to  smooth  over  my  refusal,  I 
hastened  to  impart  the  information  that  I  should  not  be 


26o  YOUTH 

at  home  because  I  must  go  to  Prince  Ivan  Ivanitch,  and 
Princess  Kornakoff  and  to  Ivin,  the  one  who  held  such 
an  important  post,  and  that  I  should  probably  dine  with 
Princess  Nekhliudoff.  It  seemed  to  me  that  when  they 
learned  to  what  distinguished  houses  I  was  going,  they 
could  make  no  more  claims  upon  me.  When  they  pre- 
pared to  depart,  I  invited  Ilinka  to  come  again  ;  but  Ilinka 
only  muttered  something,  and  smiled  with  a  constrained 
expression.  It  was  evident  that  his  feet  would  never 
cross  my  threshold  again. 

After  their  departure,  I  set  out  on  my  visits.  Volo- 
dya,  whom  I  had  that  morning  invited  to  accompany  me, 
in  order  that  it  might  not  be  as  awkward  as  if  I  were 
alone,  had  refused,  under  the  pretext  that  it  would  be 
too  sentimental  for  two  brothers  to  ride  together  in  one 
carriage. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE    VALAKHINS 

So  I  set  out  alone.  My  first  visit,  in  point  of  locality, 
was  to  the  Valakhins,  in  the  Sivtzevoi  Vrazhok.  I  had 
not  seen  Sonitchka  for  three  years,  and  of  course  my 
love  for  her  had  vanished  long  ago  ;  but  a  lively  and 
touching  memory  of  that  past  childish  love  still  lingered 
in  my  soul.  It  had  happened  to  me,  in  the  course  of 
those  three  years,  to  recall  her  with  such  force  and 
clearness,  that  I  shed  tears,  and  felt  myself  in  love 
again  ;  but  this  only  lasted  a  few  minutes,  and  did  not 
speedily  return. 

I  knew  that  Sonitchjca  had  been  abroad  with,  her 
mother,  where  they  had  remained  for  two  years,  and 
where,  it  was  said,  they  had  been  upset  in  a  diligence, 
and  Sonitchka's  face  had  been  badly  cut  with  the  glass, 
so  that  she  had  lost  her  good  looks  to  a  great  extent. 
On  my  way  thither,  I  vividly  recalled  the  former  So- 
nitchka, and  thought  of  how  I  should  meet  her  now.  In 
consequence  of  her  two  years'  stay  abroad  I  fancied  her 


YOUTH  261 

extremely  tall,  with  a  very  fine  figure,  serious  and  digni- 
fied, but  remarkably  attractive.  My  imagination  refused 
to  present  her  with  a  face  disfigured  with  scars  ;  on 
the  contrary,  having  heard  somewhere  of  the  passionate 
lover  who  remained  faithful  to  the  beloved  object,  in 
spite  of  disfigurement  by  small-pox,  I  tried  to  think  that 
I  was  in  love  with  Sonitchka,  in  order  that  I  might  have 
the  merit  of  remaining  true  to  her  in  spite  of  the  scars. 
On  the  whole,  when  I  drove  up  to  the  Valakhins'  house, 
I  was  not  in  love,  but  having  set  in  motion  old  memor- 
ies of  love  I  was  well  prepared  to  fall  in  love,  and  was 
very  desirous  to  do  so  ;  the  more  so  as  I  had  long  felt 
ashamed  when  I  looked  at  all  my  enamoured  friends, 
because  I  had  left  the  ranks. 

The  Valakhins  lived  in  a  neat  little  wooden  house, 
the  entrance  to  which  was  from  the  courtyard.  The 
door  was  opened  to  me  at  the  sound  of  the  bell,  which 
was  then  a  great  rarity  in  Moscow,  by  a  very  small  and 
neatly  dressed  boy.  He  either  did  not  understand  me, 
or  did  not  want  to  tell  me  if  the  family  were  at  home  ; 
and,  leaving  me  in  the  dark  vestibule,  he  ran  into  the 
still  darker  corridor.        • 

I  remained  alone  for  quite  a  while  in  that  dark  room, 
in  which  there  was  one  closed  door,  besides  the  one 
leading  to  the  corridor ;  and  I  wondered  partly  at  the 
gloomy  character  of  the  house,  and  in  part  assumed 
that  it  must  be  so  with  people  who  had  been  abroad. 
After  the  lapse  of  five  minutes  the  door  to  the  hall  was 
opened  from  the  inside  by  the  same  boy,  and  he  led  me 
to  the  neatly  but  not  richly  furnished  drawing-room, 
into  which  Sonitchka  followed  me. 

She  was  seventeen.  She  was  very  short  in  stature, 
very  thin,  and  with  a  yellowish,  unhealthy  color  in 
her  face.  There  were  no  scars  visible  on  her  face  ;  but 
her  charming,  prominent  eyes,  and  her  bright,  good- 
natured,  merry  smile,  were  the  same  which  I  had  known 
and  loved  in  my  childhood.  I  had  not  expected  to  find 
her  like  this  at  all,  and  therefore  I  could  not  at  once 
pour  out  upon  her  the  feeling  which  I  had  prepared  on 
the  way.     She  gave  me  her  hand  in  the  English  fashion, 


262  YOUTH 

which  was  then  as  much  of  a  rarity  as  the  bell,  shook 
my  hand  frankly,  and  seated  me  beside  her  on  the 
sofa. 

"Ah,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you,  my  dear  Nikolas  !  " 
she  said,  gazing  into  my  face  with  the  same  genuine 
expression  of  pleasure  which  her  words  implied.  The 
"my  dear  Nikolas,"  I  observed,  was  uttered  in  a 
friendly,  not  in  a  patronizing,  tone.  To  my  amaze- 
ment, she  was  more  simple,  sweet,  and  like  a  relative 
in  her  manner,  after  her  trip  abroad  than  before.  I 
observed  two  little  scars  near  her  nose,  and  on  her  fore- 
head ;  but  her  wonderful  eyes  and  smile  were  perfectly 
true  to  my  recollections,  and  shone  in  the  old  way. 

"How  you  have  changed!"  said  she,  "you  have 
quite  grown  up.  Well,  and  I....  what  do  you  think  of 
me .'' " 

"  Ah,  I  should  not  have  known  you,"  I  answered, 
although  at  that  very  time  I  was  thinking  that  I  should 
have  known  her  anywhere.  I  again  felt  myself  in  that 
care-free,  merry  mood  in  which,  five  years  before,  I  had 
danced  the  "  grandfather "  with  her  at  grandmamma's 
ball.  • 

"  What,  have  I  grown  very  ugly  ?  "  she  asked,  shak- 
ing her  head. 

"  No,  not  at  all ;  you  have  grown  some,  you  are 
older,"  I  made  haste  to  reply:  "but  on  the  contrary.... 
and  even  ....  " 

"  Well,  no  matter ;  I  remember  our  dances,  our  games, 
St.  Jerome,  Madame  Dorat."  (I  did  not  recollect  any 
Madame  Dorat ;  she  was  evidently  carried  away  by  the 
enjoyment  of  her  childish  memories,  and  was  confound- 
ing them.)  "  Ah,  that  was  a  famous  time  !  "  she  contin- 
ued ;  and  the  same  smile,  even  more  beautiful  than  the 
one  I  bore  in  my  memory,  and  the  very  same  eyes, 
gleamed  before  me.  While  she  was  speaking  I  had  suc- 
ceeded in  realizing  the  situation  in  which  I  found  myself 
at  the  present  moment,  and  I  decided  that  at  the  pres- 
ent moment  I  was  in  love.  As  soon  as  I  had  made  up 
my  mind  to  this,  that  instant  my  happy,  careless  mood 
vanished,  a  dark  cloud  enveloped  everything  before  me, 


YOUTH  16:^ 

—  even  her  eyes  and  smile,  —  I  became  ashamed  of 
something,  I  turned  red,  and  lost  all  power  to  speak. 

"Times  are  different  now,"  she  went  on,  with  a  sigh, 
elevating  her  brows  slightly  ;  "  everything  is  much 
worse,  and  we  are  worse  ;  are  we  not,  Nikolas  ? " 

I  could  not  answer,  and  gazed  at  her  in  silence. 

"  Where  are  all  the  Ivins  and  Kornakoffs  of  those 
days.-*  Do  you  remember.''"  she  continued,  looking  at 
my  red  and  frightened  face  with  some  curiosity;  "that 
was  a  famous  time  !  " 

And  still  I  could  not  reply. 

The  entrance  of  the  elder  Valakhina  relieved  me  of 
this  uncomfortable  situation  for  a  time.  I  rose,  bowed, 
and  recovered  my  power  of  speech  ;  but,  in  turn,  a 
strange  change  came  over  Sonitchka  with  her  mother's 
entrance.  All  her  gayety  and  naturalness  suddenly  dis- 
appeared, her  very  smile  was  different ;  and  all  at  once, 
with  the  exception  of  her  tall  stature,  she  became  ex- 
actly the  young  lady  returned  from  abroad  which  I  had 
imagined  her  to  be.  It  seemed  as  though  this  change 
could  have  no  cause,  since  her  mother  smiled  just  as 
pleasantly,  and  all  her  movements  expressed  as  much 
gentleness,  as  of  old.  The  Valakhina^  seated  herself  in 
a  large  arm-chair,  and  indicated  to  me  a  place  near  her. 
She  said  something  to  her  daughter  in  English,  and 
Sonitchka  immediately  left  the  room,  which  afforded 
me  some  relief.  The  Valakhina  inquired  after  my  rela- 
tives, my  brother,  and  my  father,  and  then  spoke  to  me 
of  her  own  sorrow,  —  the  loss  of  her  husband,  —  and 
finally,  feeling  that  there  was  nothing  to  say  to  me,  she 
looked  at  me  in  silence,  as  if  to  say,  "  If  you  will  rise 
now,  and  make  your  bow,  and  go  away,  you  will  be 
doing  very  well,  my  dear  fellow."  But  a  strange  thing 
happened  to  me.  Sonitchka  had  returned  with  her 
work,  and  seated  herself  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  so 
that  I  felt  her  glance  fixed  upon  me.  While  the  Vala- 
khina was. relating  the  loss  of  her  husband,  I  once  more 

1  A  lady's  surname,  in  the  feminine  form,  is  not  infrequently  used  thus, 
without  prefix.  It  is  a  familiar,  but  not  necessarily  a  disrespectful,  form  of 
allusion.  —  Tr. 


264  YOUTH 

remembered  that  I  was  in  love,  and  thought  that  per 
haps  the  mother  guessed  it ;  and  I  had  another  fit  of 
shyness  of  such  intensity  that  I  did  not  find  myself  in  a 
condition  to  move  even  a  single  limb  in  a  natural  man- 
ner. I  knew  that  in  order  to  rise  and  take  my  depar- 
ture, I  should  be  obliged  to  think  where  to  set  my  foot, 
what  to  do  with  my  head,  what  with  my  hand  ;  in  short, 
I  felt  almost  exactly  as  I  had  felt  the  evening  before 
after  drinking  half  a  bottle  of  champagne.  I  had  a  pre- 
sentiment that  I  could  not  get  through  with  all  this,  and 
therefore  could  not  rise  ;  and  I  actually  co7tld  not.  The 
Valakhina  was  probably  surprised  when  she  beheld  my 
face,  as  red  as  cloth,  and  my  utter  immovability ;  but  I 
decided  that  it  was  better  to  sit  still  in  that  stupid  atti- 
tude than  to  risk  rising  in  an  awkward  manner,  and 
taking  my  departure.  I  sat  thus  for  quite  a  long  time, 
expecting  that  some  unforeseen  circumstance  would 
rescue  me  from  that  position.  This  circumstance  pre- 
.sented  itself  in  the  person  of  an  insignificant  young 
man,  who  entered  the  room  with  the  air  of  a  member  of 
the  family,  and  bowed  courteously  to  me.  The  Vala- 
khina rose,  excusing  herself  on  the  ground  that  it  was 
necessary  for  her  to  speak  with  her  business  manager, 
and  looked  at  me  with  an  expression  of  surprise  which 
said,  "If  you  want  to  sit  there  forever,  I  will  not  drive 
you  out."  I  made  a  tremendous  effort,  and  rose,  but 
was  no  longer  in  a  condition  to  make  a  bow ;  and  as  I 
went  out,  accompanied  by  the  compassionate  glances  of 
mother  and  daughter,  I  knocked  against  a  chair  which 
did  not  stand  in  my  way  at  all  ;  I  only  ran  against  it 
because  my  whole  attention  was  directed  upon  not 
stumbling  over  the  carpet  which  was  under  my  feet. 
But  once  in  the  open  air,  —  where  I  writhed  and  growled 
so  loudly  that  even  Kuzma  inquired  several  times,  "  What 
is  your  wish  .-•  "  —  this  feeling  disappeared  ;  and  I  began 
to  meditate  quite  calmly  upon  my  love  for  Sonitchka, 
and  her  relations  with  her  mother,  which  struck  me  as 
singular.  When  I  afterward  communicated  my  obser- 
vations to  my  father,  — that  Madame  Valakhin  and  her 
daughter  were  not  on  good  terms,  —  he  said  :  — 


YOUTH  265 

"  Yes,  she  torments  her,  poor  thing,  with  her  strange 
miserhness ;  and  it's  odd  enough,"  he  added,  with  a 
stronger  feeling  than  he  could  have  for  a  mere  relative. 
"  How  charming  she  was,  the  dear,  queer  woman !  I 
cannot  understand  why  she  is  so  changed.  You  did 
not  see  any  secretary  there,  did  you  .-•  What  sort  of  a 
fashion  is  it  for  Russian  ladies  to  have  secretaries  .'' "  he 
said  angrily,  walking  away  from  me. 

"  I  did  see  him,"  said  I. 

"Well,  he  is  good-looking  at  least .'' " 

"No,  he  is  not  at  all  good-looking." 

"It's  incomprehensible,"  said  papa,  and  he  twitched 
his  shoulders  angrily  and  coughed. 

"  Here  I  am  in  love  too,"  I  thought  as  I  rode  on  in 
my  drozhky. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

THE    KORNAKOFFS 

The  second  call  on  my  way  was  on  the  Kornakoffs. 
They  lived  on  the  first  floor  of  a  great  house  on  the 
Arbata.  The  staircase  was  very  showy  and  clean,  but 
not  luxurious.  Everywhere  there  was  striped  crash 
fastened  directly  on  the  stairs  by  rails  of  polished 
copper ;  but  there  were  neither  flowers  nor  mirrors. 
The  hall,  over  whose  brightly  polished  floor  I  passed  to 
reach  the  drawing-room,  was  also  forbidding,  cold,  and 
neatly  arranged  ;  everything  shone,  and  seemed  durable, 
although  not  at  all  new;  but  neither  pictures,  curtains, 
nor  any  other  species  of  adornment  were  anywhere  visi- 
ble. Several  princesses  were  in  the  drawing-room. 
They  were  sitting  in  such  a  precise  and  leisurely  atti- 
tude that  it  was  immediately  perceptible  that  they  did 
not  sit  so  when  guests  were  not  present. 

"Mamma  will  be  here  immediately,"  said  the  eldest 
of  them  to  me,  as  she  seated  herself  nearer  me.  For  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  this  princess  engaged  me  in  a  very 
easy  conversation,  and  she  did  it  so  skilfully  that  the 


266  YOUTH 

conversation  never  languished  for  a  moment.  But  it 
was  too  evident  that  she  was  entertaining  me,  and  there- 
fore she  did  not  please  me.  Among  other  things,  she 
tojd  me  that  her  brother  Stepan,  whom  they  called 
Etienne,  and  who  had  been  sent  to  the  Yunkers'  School, 
had  already  been  promoted  to  be  an  officer.  When  she 
spoke  of  her  brother,  and  especially  when  she  mentioned 
that  he  had  entered  the  hussars  against  his  mother's 
wish,  she  put  on  a  frightened  look  ;  and  all  the  prin- 
cesses, who  sat  there  in  silence,  put  on  the  same  fright- 
ened faces.  When  she  spoke  of  grandmamma's  death, 
she  put  on  a  sorrowful  look,  and  all  the  younger  prin- 
cesses did  'the  same.  When  she  recalled  how  I  had 
struck  St.  Jerome,  and  how  I  had  been  led  off,  she 
laughed,  and  showed  her  bad  teeth ;  and  all  the  prin- 
cesses laughed,  and  showed  their  bad  teeth. 

The  princess  entered.  She  was  the  same  little  dried- 
up  woman,  with  restless  eyes,  and  a  habit  of  looking  at 
other  people  while  talking  with  one.  She  took  me  by 
the  hand,  and  raised  her  hand  to  my  lips,  in  order  that 
I  might  kiss  it ;  which  I  should  not  otherwise  have  done, 
not  supposing  that  it  was  indispensable. 

"  How  glad  I  am  to  see  you !  "  she  said,  with  her 
usual  eloquence,  glancing  at  her  daughters.  *'  Ah,  how 
like  his  mamma  he  is  !     Is  he  not,  Lise  .'' " 

Lise  said  that  it  was  so ;  though  I  know,  for  a  fact, 
that  I  possess  not  the  slightest  resemblance  to  mamma. 

"  And  how  large  you  have  grown  !  And  my  Etienne, 
you  remember,  he  is  your  second  cousin  —  no,  not  your 
second  ;  but  how  is  it,  Lise  .<*  My  mother  was  Varvara 
Dmitrievna,  daughter  of  Dmitry  Nikolaevitch,  and  your 
grandmother  was  Natalya  Nikolaevna." 

"Then  he  is  our  third  cousin,  mamma,"  said  the  eld- 
est princess. 

'*  Oh,  you  are  mixing  things  all  up,"  cried  the  prin- 
cess, angrily.  "  It 's  not  third  cousin  at  all,  but  issiis  de 
germains, — chiklren  of  cousins;  that's  what  you  and 
my  dear  little  Etienne  are.  He 's  an  officer  already ; 
did  you  know  it .?  But  it 's  not  well  in  one  respect :  he 
has  too  much  liberty.     You  young  people  must  be  kept 


YOUTH  267 

in  band ;  that 's  the  truth !  You  will  not  be  angry 
with  me,  your  old  aunt,  if  I  tell  yon  the  truth  ?  I 
brought  up  Etienne  strictly,  and  I  think  that 's  the 
proper  way  to  do. 

"  Yes,  that 's  the  relationship  between  us,"  she  went 
on.  "  Prince  Ivan  Ivanitch  is  my  own  uncle,  and  your 
mother's  uncle.  So  we  were  cousins  to  your  mamma, 
and  not  second  cousins.  Yes,  that 's  it.  Now,  tell  me. 
Have  you  been  to  Prince  Ivan's .'' " 

I  said  that  I  had  not  been  there  yet,  but  should  go 
that  day. 

"  Ah  !  how  is  that  possible  .-' "  she  exclaimed.  "  That 
should  have  been  your  very  first  call.  Why,  you  know 
that  Prince  Ivan  is  just  the  same  as  a  father  to  you. 
He  has  no  children,  so  his  only  heirs  are  you  and  my 
children.  You  must  revere  him  on  account  of  his  age, 
and  his  position  in  the  world,  and  everything.  I  know 
that  you  young  people  of  the  present  generation  think 
nothing  of  relationship,,  and  do  not  like  old  people ;  but 
you  must  obey  me,  your  old  aunt ;  for  I  love  you,  and  I 
loved  your  mamma,  and  your  grandmother,  too,  I  loved 
and  respected  very,  very  much.  Yes,  you  must  go  with- 
out fail.     You  certainly  must  go." 

I  said  that  I  certainly  would  go,  and  as  the  call  had 
already  lasted  long  enough,  in  my  opinion,  I  rose,  and 
made  a  motion  to  go ;  but  she  detained  me, 

"  No,  wait  a  minute.  —  Where  is  your  father,  Lise  ? 
Call  him  here. — He  will  be  so  glad  to  see  you,"  she 
continued,  turning  to  me. 

In  a  couple  of  minutes  Prince  Mikhaflo  actually  en- 
tered. He  was  a  short,  stout  man,  very  negligently 
dressed,  unshaven,  and  with  such  an  expression  of  indif- 
ference on  his  countenance  that  it  approached  stupidity. 
He  was  not  at  all  glad  to  see  mt ;  at  all  events,  he  did 
not  express  anything  of  the  sort.  But  the  princess,  of 
whom  he  was  evidently  very  much  afraid,  said  to  him  :  — 

"  Waldemar  [she  had  plainly  forgotten  my  name]  is 
very  like  his  mother,  is  he  not .'' "  and  she  made  such  a 
signal  with  her  eyes  that  the  prince  must  have  divined 
her  wish,  for  he  came  up  to  me,  and,  with  the  most 


268  YOUTH 

apathetic  and  even  dissatisfied  expression  of  counte- 
nance, presented  his  unshaven  cheek  to  me,  which  I 
was  forced  to  kiss. 

"  But  you  are  not  dressed,  and  you  must  go  instantly," 
the  princess  began  at  once  to  say  to  him,  in  an  angry 
tone,  which  was  evidently  her  usual  one  with  members 
of  her  household.  "You  want  to  prejudice  people 
against  you  again,  to  make  people  angry  with  you 
again  ! " 

"At  once,  at  once,  matushka,"  said  Prince  Mikhaiflo, 
and  departed.     I  bowed,  and  departed  also. 

I  had  heard  for  the  first  time  that  we  were  heirs 
of  Prince  Ivan  Ivanitch,  and  this  news  struck  me 
unpleasantly. 


CHAPTER   XX 

THE    IVINS 

It  distressed  me  still  more  to  think  of  that  impending, 
indispensable  visit.  But,  before  I  went  to  the  prince,  I 
had  to  stop  at  the  Ivins'  on  the  way.  They  lived  on  the 
Tverskoy  Boulevard,  in  a  large  and  handsome  house.  It 
was  not  without  timidity  that  I  drove  up  to  the  state 
entrance,  at  which  stood  a  hall  porter  with  a  staff. 

I  asked  him  if  the  family  was  at  home. 

"  Whom  do  you  wish  to  see  .-*  The  general's  son  is  at 
home,"  said  the  porter. 

"  And  the  general  himself  }  " 

"  I  will  inquire.  Whom  shall  I  announce  ?  "  said  the 
porter,  and  rang. 

A  footman's  feet,  clad  in  gaiters,  appeared  upon  the 
stairs.  I  was  so  much  alarmed,  I  do  not  know  myself 
why,  that  I  told  the  footman  that  he  was  not  to  announce 
me  to  the  general,  and  that  I  would  go  first  to  the  gen- 
eral's son.  When  I  went  up-stairs,  along  that  great 
staircase,  it  seemed  to  rne  that  I  became  frightfully 
small  (and  not  in  the  figurative,  but  in  the  actual,  sense 
of  the  word).     I  had  experienced  the  same  sensation 


YOUTH  0.6^ 

when  my  drozhky  drove  up  to  the  grand  entrance ;  it 
had  seemed  to  me  that  the  drozhky  and  the  horse  and 
the  coachman  became  small.  The  general's  son  was 
lying,  fast  asleep,  upon  a  divan,  with  an  open  book  be- 
fore him,  when  I  entered  the  room.  His  tutor,  Herr 
Frost,  who  still  remained  in  the  house,  followed  me  into 
the  room,  with  his  active  step,  and  woke  up  his  pupil. 
Ivin  did  not  exhibit  any  special  delight  at  the  sight  of 
me,  and  I  observed  that  he  looked  at  my  eyebrows  while 
he  was  talking.  Although  he  was  very  polite,  it  seemed 
to  me  that  he  was  entertaining  me  exactly  as  the  prin- 
cess had  done,  and  that  he  felt  no  particular  attraction 
toward  me,  and  did  not  need  my  acquaintance,  since  he 
probably  had  his  own  different  circle  of  acquaintances. 
All  this  I  imagined,  principally  because  he  gazed  at  my 
eyebrows.  In  a  word,  his  relations  to  me,  however  dis- 
agreeable it  might  be  to  me  to  confess  it,  were  almost 
exactly  the  same  as  mine  to  Ilinka.  I  began  to  get  irri- 
tated ;  I  caught  every  look  of  Ivin's  on  the  fly,  and 
when  his  eyes  and  Frost's  met,  I  translated  his  ques- 
tion, "  And  why  has  he  come  to  us  ? " 

After  talking  with  me  for  a  short  time,  Ivin  said  that 
his  father  and  mother  were  at  home,  and  would  I  not 
like  to  have  him  go  with  me  to  them } 

"  I  will  dress  myself  at  once,"  he  added,  going  into 
another  room,  although  he  was  very  well  dressed  in  this 
room,  —  in  a  new  coat  and  white  waistcoat.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  came  back  in  his  uniform,  completely  but- 
toned up,  and  we  went  down-stairs  together.  The  state 
apartments  which  we  passed  through  were  extremely 
lofty,  and  apparently  very  richly  furnished  ;  there  was 
marble  and  gilding,  and  something  wrapped  up  in  mus- 
lin, and  mirrors.  The  Ivina  entered  the  small  room 
beyond  the  drawing-room  through  another  door,  at  the 
same  time  that  we  did.  She  received  me  in  a  very 
friendly  manner,  like  a  relative,  gave  me  a  seat  beside 
her,  and  inquired  with  interest  about  all  our  family. 

Madame  Ivin,  of  whom  I  had  only  caught  a  couple  of 
fleeting  glimpses  previous  to  this,  pleased  me  very  much 
now  that  I  looked  at  her  attentively.      She   was   tall, 


270 


YOUTH 


thin,  very  white,  and  seemed  always  melancholy  and 
exhausted.  Her  smile  was  sad,  but  extremely  kind  ; 
her  eyes  were  large,  weary,  and  not  quite  straight, 
which  gave  her  a  still  more  melancholy  and  attractive 
expression.  She  did  not  sit  exactly  bent  over,  but  with 
her  whole  body  limp,  and  all  her  movements  were  lan- 
guishing. She  spoke  languidly,  but  the  sound  of  her 
voice,  and  her  indistinct  utterance  of  r  and  /,  were  very 
pleasing.  She  did  not  entertain  me.  My  answers  about 
my  relatives  evidently  afforded  her  a  melancholy  inter- 
est, as  though,  while  listening  to  me,  she  sadly  recalled 
better  days.  Her  son  went  off  somewhere  ;  she  gazed 
at  me  in  silence  for  a  couple  of  minutes,  and  all  at  once 
she  began  to  cry.  I  sat  there  before  her,  and  could  not 
think  of  anything  whatever  to  say  or  do.  She  went  on 
crying,  and  never  looked  at  me.  At  first  I  was  sorry 
for  her ;  then  I  thought,  "  Ought  I  not  to  comfort  her, 
and  how  must  it  be  done.'*"  and  finally  I  became  vexed 
at  her,  for  placing  me  in  such  an  awkward  position. 
"  Have  I  such  a  pitiful  appearance  .'' "  I  thought,  "  or  is 
she  doing  this  on  purpose  to  find  out  how  I  shall  behave 
under  the  circumstances  .-*  " 

"It  is  awkward  to  take  leave  now,  it  will  seem  as 
though  I  am  running  away  from  her  tears,"  I  continued 
my  reflections.  I  moved  about  on  my  chair  to  remind 
her  of  my  presence. 

"Oh,  how  stupid  I  am!"  she  said,  glancing  at  me, 
and  trying  to  smile  ;  "  there  are  days  when  one  weeps 
without  any  cause  whatever." 

She  began  to  search  for  her  handkerchief,  beside  her 
on  the  sofa,  and  all  at  once  she  broke  out  crying  harder 
than  ever. 

"Ah,  my  heavens  !  how  ridiculous  it  is  for  me  to  cry 
so  !  I  loved  your  mother  so,  we  were  such  ....  friends  .... 
and...." 

She  found  her  handkerchief,  covered  her  face  with  it, 
and  went  on  crying.  My  awkward  position  was  re- 
newed, and  lasted  quite  a  long  while.  Her  tears  seemed 
genuine,  and  I  kept  thinking  that  she  was  not  weeping 
so  much  because  of  my  mother,  as  because  things  did 


YOUTH 


271 


not  suit  her  now,  and  had  been  much  better  at  some 
time  in  former  days.  I  do  not  know  how  it  would  have 
ended,  had  not  young  Ivin  entered  and  said  that  old 
Ivin  was  asking  for  her.  She  rose,  and  was  on  the 
point  of  going,  when  Ivin  himself  entered  the  room. 
He  was  a  small,  stout,  gray-haired  gentleman,  with 
thick  black  brows,  perfectly  gray  close-cut  hair,  and  an 
extremely  stern  and  firm  expression  of  countenance. 

I  rose  and  saluted  him  ;  but  Ivin,  who  had  three  stars 
on  his  green  coat,  not  only  did  not  respond  to  my  greet- 
ing, but  hardly  so  much  as  glanced  at  me,  so  that  I  all  at 
once  felt  that  I  was  not  a  man,  but  some  sort  of  thing 
which  was  not  worthy  of  notice, — an  arm-chair  or  a 
window,  or  if  a  man,  then  such  a  one  as  is  not  dis- 
tinguished in  any  way  from  an  arm-chair  or  a  window. 

"  You  have  n't  written  to  the  countess  yet,  my  dear," 
he  said  to  his  wife  in  French,  with  an  apathetic  but  firm 
expression  of  countenance. 

"Farewell,  Mr.  Irteneff,"  said  Madame  Ivin  to  me, 
inclining  her  head  rather  haughtily  all  at  once,  and 
gazing  at  my  eyebrows  as  her  son  had  done.  I  bowed 
once  more  to  her  and  her  husband,  and  again  my  salute 
acted  upon  the  elder  Ivin  exactly  as  the  opening  or 
shutting  of  a  window  would  have  done.  But  Ivin  the 
student  accompanied  me  to  the  door,  and  told  me  on 
the  way  that  he  was  going  to  be  transferred  to  the 
Petersburg  university,  because  his  father  had  received 
an  appointment  there  (and  he  mentioned  a  very  im- 
portant position). 

"  Well,  as  papa  likes,"  I  muttered  to  myself  as  I 
seated  myself  in  my  drozhky ;  "  but  my  feet  will 
never  enter  here  again.  That  bawler  cries  when  she 
looks  at  me,  just  as  though  I  were  some  miserable 
creature ;  and  Ivin  is  a  pig,  and  does  n't  bow  to  me. 
I  '11  give  him  ....  "  what  I  wanted  to  give  him,  I  really 
do  not  know,  but  that  was  the  word  which  occurred 
to  me. 

I  was  often  obliged  afterward  to  endure  my  father's 
exhortations,  and  he  said  that  it  was  indispensable  to 
''cultivate''  this  acquaintance,  and  that  I  could  not  re- 


272  YOUTH 

quire  a  man  in  such  a  position  as  Ivin's  to  pay  attention 
to  such  a  boy  as  I ;  but  I  preserved  my  resolution  for  a 
long  time. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

PRINCE    IVAN    IVANITCH 

"Now  for  the  last  call  on  the  Nikitskaya,"  I  said  to 
Kuzma,  and  we  rolled  away  to  Prince  Ivan  Ivanitch's 
house. 

After  having  gone  through  several  calling  experiences, 
I  generally  acquired  self-reliance  by  practice ;  and  now 
I  was  about  to  drive  up  to  the  prince's  in  a  tolerably 
composed  frame  of  mind,  when  I  suddenly  recalled  the 
words  of  Princ-ess  Kornakoff,  to  the  effect  that  I  was  his 
heir  ;  moreover,  I  beheld  two  equipages  at  the  entrance, 
and  I  felt  my  former  timidity  again. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  the  old  hall  porter  who  opened 
the  door  for  me,  and  the  footman  who  took  off  my  coat, 
and  the  three  ladies  and  the  two  gentlemen  whom  I  found 
in  the  drawing-room,  and  Prince  Ivan  Ivanitch  himself 
in  particular,  who  was  sitting  on  the  divan  in  a  plain 
coat,  —  it  seemed  to  me  that  they  all  looked  upon  me  as 
the  heir,  and  therefore  with  ill-will.  The  prince  was 
very  friendly  with  me :  he  kissed  me,  that  is  to  say,  he 
laid  his  soft,  dry,  cold  lips  against  my  cheek  for  a  mo- 
ment, inquired  about  my  occupations  and  plans,  jested 
with  me,  asked  if  I  still  wrote  verses  like  those  which 
I  had  written  for  my  grandmother's  name-day,  and  said 
that  I  must  come  and  dine  with  him  that  day.  But  the 
more  courteous  he  was,  the  more  it  seemed  to  me  as 
hough  he  wanted  to  pet  me  only  to  prevent  my  perceiv- 
ing how  disagreeable  to  him  was  the  thought  that  I  was 
his  heir.  He  had  a  habit  —  arising  from  the  false  teeth 
with  which  his  mouth  was  filled  —  of  raising  his  upper 
lip  toward  his  nose  after  he  had  said  anything,  and  utter- 
ing a  slight  snort,  as  though  he  were  drawing  his  lip 
into  his  nostrils ;  and  when  he  did  this  on  the  present 


YOUTH  273 

occasion,  it  seemed  to  me  as  though  he  were  saying  to 
himself,  "  Little  boy,  little  boy,  I  know  it  without  your 
reminding  me  of  it ;  you  are  the  heir,  the  heir,"  and  so  on. 

When  we  were  children,  we  had  called  Prince  Ivan 
Ivanitch  "grandfather"  ;  but  now,  in  my  capacity  of  heir, 
my  tongue  could  not  bring  itself  to  say  "  grandfather  " 
to  him,  and  it  seemed  to  me  humiliating  to  call  him 
"your  excellency,"  as  one  of  the  gentlemen  present  did, 
so  that,  during  the  entire  conversation,  I  tried  not  to 
call  him  anything  at  all.  But  what  abashed  me  most  of 
all  was  the  old  spinster  princess,  who  was  also  one  of 
the  prince's  heirs,  and  lived  in  his  house.  During  the 
whole  course  of  dinner,  at  which  I  was  seated  beside  the 
princess,  I  fancied  that  the  princess  did  not  address  me 
because  she  hated  me  for  being  also  an  heir  of  the  prince 
as  well  as  herself ;  and  that  the  prince  paid  no  attention 
to  our  side  of  the  table  because  we  —  the  princess  and  I 
—  were  heirs,  and  equally  repulsive  to  him. 

"  Yes  ;  you  can't  believe  how  disagreeable  it  was  for 
me,"  I  said  that  same  evening  to  Dmitry,  desiring  to 
brag  to  him  of  the  feeling  of  repugnance  to  the  thought 
that  I  was  an  heir  (this  sentiment  seemed  very  fine  to 
me),  —  "how  disagreeable  it  was  for  me  to  pass  two 
whole  hours  at  the  prince's  to-day.  He  is  a  very  fine 
man,  and  was  very  polite  to  me,"  said  I,  wishing,  among 
other  things,  to  impress  my  friend  with  the  fact  that 
what  I  said  was  not  in  consequence  of  having  felt  hu- 
miliated before  the  prince  ;  "  but,"  I  continued,  "  the 
thought  that  they  might  look  upon  me  as  they  do  upon 
the  princess  who  lives  in  his  house,  and  behaves  in  such 
a  servile  way  before  him,  is  frightful.  He  is  a  wonder- 
ful old  man,  and  extremely  kind  and  delicate  withal,  but 
it  is  painful  to  see  how  he  maltreats  that  princess.  This 
disgusting  money  ruins  all  intercourse ! 

"Do  you  know,  I  think  it  would  be  much  better  to 
explain  myself  clearly  to  the  prince,"  said  I,  —  "to  tell 
him  that  I  revere  him  as  a  man,  but  that  I  am  not  think- 
ing of  his  inheritance,  and  that  I  beg  him  not  to  leave 
me  anything,  and  that  under  that  condition  only  will  I 
go  to  his  house." 


274  YOUTH 

Dmitry  did  not  laugh  when  I  told  him  this  ;  on  the 
contrary,  he  became  thoughtful,  and,  after  a  silence  of 
several  minutes,  he  said  to  me  :  — 

"  Do  you  know  what  ?  You  are  not  in  the  right. 
Either  you  should  not  suppose  at  all  that  people  can 
think  of  you  as  of  your  princess  ;  or  else,  if  you  do 
already  suppose  it,  then  you  should  carry  your  supposi- 
tions farther ;  that  is,  to  the  effect  that  you  know  what 
people  may  think  of  you,  but  that  such  thoughts  are  so 
far  from  your  intentions  that  you  scorn  them,  and  will 
do  nothing  which  is  founded  on  them.  Now,  suppose 
that  they  suppose  that  you  suppose  this  ....  But,  in  short," 
he  added,  conscious  that  he  was  involving  himself  i^^is 
reflections,  "it 's  much  better  not  to  suppose  it  at  £BT7' 

My  friend  was  quite  right.  It  was  only  later,  miich 
later,  that  I  was  convinced  from  my  experience  of  life  how 
injurious  it  is  to  think,  and  how  much  more  injurious  to 
utter,  much  which  seems  very  noble,  but  which  should 
remain  forever  hidden  from  all  in  the  heart  of  each 
individual  man  ;  and  how  rarely  noble  words  accompany 
noble  deeds.  I  am  convinced  that  the  very  fact  that  a 
good  intention  has  been  announced  renders  the  execu- 
tion of  this  good  intention  more  difficult,  and  generally 
impossible.  But  how  restrain  the  utterance  of  the 
nobly  self-satisfied  impulses  of  youth  ?  One  only  recol- 
lects them  afterward,  and  mourns  over  them  as  over  a 
flower  which  did  not  last,  —  which  one  has  plucked  ere 
it  had  opened,  and  then  has  beheld  upon  the  ground, 
withered  and  trampled  on. 

I,  who  had  but  just  told  my  friend  Dmitry  that  money 
ruined  intercourse,  borrowed  twenty-five  rubles  of  him, 
which  he  offered  me  the  next  morning,  before  our  de- 
parture to  the  country,  when  I  found  that  I  had  wasted 
all  my  own  money  on  divers  pictures  and  pipe-stems  ; 
and  then  I  remained  in  his  debt  a  very  long  time  indeed. 


I 


YOUTH  275 


CHAPTER   XXir 

AN    INTIMATE   CONVERSATION   WITH    MY    FRIEND 

Our  present  conversation  arose  in  the  phaeton  on  the 
road  to  Kuntzovo.  Dmitry  had  dissuaded  me  from  call- 
ing on  his  mother  in  the  morning ;  but  he  came  to  me, 
after  dinner,  to  carry  me  off  for  the  whole  evening,  and 
even  to  pass  the  night  at  the  country  villa  where  his 
family  lived.  It  was  only  when  we  had  emerged  from 
the  city  and  the  dirty,  motley  streets,  and  the  intoler- 
ably deafening  sound  of  the  pavements  had  been  ex- 
(a^nged  for  the  broad  view  of  the  fields  and  the  soft 
rattle  of  the  wheels  along  the  dusty  road,  and  the  fra- 
grant spring  air  and  the  sense  of  space  had  seized  hold 
upon  me  from  all  sides,  —  it  was  only  then  that  I  recov- 
ered my  senses  in  some  degree  from  the  various  new 
impressions  and  consciousness  of  freedom  which  had 
quite  confused  me  for  the  last  two  days.  Dmitry  was 
sociable  and  sympathetic,  did  not  adjust  his  neckerchief 
with  his  head,  and  did  not  screw  his  eyes  up.  I  was 
satisfied  with  the  lofty  sentiments  which  I  had  com- 
municated to  him,  supposing  that,  in  consideration  of 
them,  he  had  quite  forgiven  my  shameful  affair  with 
Kolpikoff,  and  did  not  despise  me  for  it ;  and  we  con- 
versed, in  a  friendly  way,  of  many  intimate  things  which 
friends  do  not  talk  to  each  other  about  under  all  condi- 
tions. Dmitry  told  me  about  his  family,  whom  I  did  not 
know  as  yet,  —  about  his  mother,  his  aunt,  his  sister, 
and  about  the  person  whom  Volodya  and  Dubkoff  con- 
sidered my  friend's  passion,  and  called  the  little  redhead. 
He  spoke  of  his  mother  with  a  certain  cool,  triumphant 
praise,  as  though  to  forestall  any  objection  on  that  sub- 
ject ;  he  expressed  enthusiasm  with  regard  to  his  aunt, 
but  with  some  condescension ;  of  his  sister,  he  said  very 
little,  and  seemed  ashamed  to  talk  to  me  about  her ;  but 
as  for  the  little  redhead,  whose  name  was  really  Liubov  ^ 
Sergieevna,  and  who  was  an  elderly  maiden  lady,  who 

^  Love  or  Charity  j  not  an  uncommon  feminine  Christian  name.  — Tr. 


276  YOUTH 

lived  in  the  Nekhliudoffs'  house  in  some  family  relation 
or  other,  he  spoke  to  me  of  her  with  animation. 

"  Yes,  she  is  a  wonderful  girl,"  said  he,  blushing 
modestly,  but,  at  the  same  time,  looking  me  boldly  in 
the  eye.  "  She  is  no  longer  a  young  girl  ;  she  is  even 
rather  old,  and  not  at  all  pretty ;  but  how  stupid,  how 
senseless  it  is  to  love  beauty  !  I  cannot  understand  it, 
it  is  so  stupid  [he  spoke  as  if  he  had  but  just  discovered 
a  perfectly  new  and  remarkable  truth],  but  she  has  such 
a  soul,  such  a  heart,  such  principles,  I  am  convinced 
that  you  will  not  find  another  such  girl  in  this  present 
world."  (I  do  not  know  why  Dmitry  had  acquired  the 
habit  of  saying  that  everything  good  was  rare  in  this 
present  world  ;  he  was  fond  of  repeating  this  expres- 
sion, and  it  seemed  to  become  him.) 

"  I  am  only  afraid,"  he  continued  calmly,  after  hav- 
ing already  annihilated  with  his  condemnation  people 
who  had  the  stupidity  to  love  beauty,  "  I  am  afraid  that 
you  will  not  soon  comprehend  her,  and  learn  to  know 
her.  She  is  modest,  even  reserved ;  she  is  not  fond  of 
displaying  her  fine,  her  wonderful  qualities.  There  is 
mamma,  who,  as  you  will  see,  is  a  very  handsome  and 
intelligent  woman  ;  she  has  known  Liubov  Sergieevna 
for  several  years,  and  cannot  and  will  not  understand 
her.  Even  last  night  I ....  I  will  tell  you  why  I  was  out 
of  spirits  when  you  asked  me.  Day  before  yesterday, 
Liubov  Sergieevna  wanted  me  to  go  with  her  to  Ivan 
Yakovlevitch ....  you  have  certainly  heard  of  Ivan  Ya- 
kovlevitch,  who  is  said  to  be  crazy,  but,  in  reality,  is  a 
remarkable  man.  Liubov  Sergieevna  is  very  religious, 
I  must  tell  you,  and  understands  Ivan  Yakovlevitch  per- 
fectly. She  frequently  goes  to  see  him,  talks  with  him, 
and  gives  him  money  for  his  poor  people,  which  she  has 
earned  herself.  She  is  a  wonderful  woman,  as  you  will 
see.  Well,  so  I  went  with  her  to  Ivan  Yakovlevitch, 
and  was  very  grateful  to  her  for  having  seen  that  re- 
markable man.  But  mamma  never  will  understand 
this,  and  regards  it  as  superstition.  Last  night  I  had 
a  quarrel  with  my  mother,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life, 
and  a  rather  hot  one,"  he  concluded,  with  a  convulsive 


YOUTH  277 

movement  of  the  neck,  as  though  in  memory  of  the  feel- 
ing which  he  had  experienced  during  this  quarrel. 

"Well,  and  what  do  you  think  ?  That  is,  how  do  you 
fancy  it  will  turn  out  ?  or  do  you  talk  with  her  of  how 
it  is  to  be,  and  how  your  love  and  friendship  will 
end  ? "  I  inquired,  wishing  to  divert  him  from  unpleas- 
ant memories. 

"You  mean  to  ask,  whether  I  think  of  marrying 
her .'' "  he  inquired,  reddening  again,  but  turning  and 
looking  me  boldly  in  the  face. 

"  Well,  in  fact,"  I  thought,  tranquilizing  myself, 
"it's  nothing:  we  are  grown  up;  we  two  friends  are 
riding  in  this  phaeton,  and  discussing  our  future  life. 
Any  one  would  enjoy  listening  and  looking  at  us  now, 
unseen." 

"  Why  not  ? "  he  went  on,  after  my  answer  in  the 
affirmative.  "  It  is  my  aim,  as  it  is  the  aim  of  every 
right-minded  man,  to  be  happy  and  good,  so  far  as  that 
is  possible  ;  and  with  her,  if  she  will  only  have  it  so,  I 
shall  be  happier  and  better  than  with  the  greatest  beauty 
in  the  world,  as  soon  as  I  am  entirely  independent." 

Engaged  in  such  discourse,  we  did  not  observe  that 
we  had  arrived  at  Kuntzovo,  that  the  sky  had  clouded 
over,  and  that  it  was  preparing  to  rain.  The  sun  stood 
not  very  high  on  the  right,  above  the  ancient  trees  of 
the  Kuntzovo  park,  and  half  of  its  brilliant  red  disk 
was  covered  with  gray,  slightly  luminous  clouds  ;  broken, 
fiery  rays  escaped  in  bursts  from  the  other  half,  and 
lighted  up  the  old  trees  of  the  park  with  striking  brill- 
iancy, as  their  dense  green  motionless  crowns  shone 
in  the  illuminated  spot  of  azure  sky.  The  gleam  and 
light  of  this  side  of  the  heavens  was  strongly  contrasted 
with  the  heavy  purplish  cloud  which  lay  before  us  above 
the  young  birches  that  were  visible  on  the  horizon. 

A  little  farther  to  the  right,  behind  the  bushes  and 
trees,  we  could  already  see  the  multicolored  roofs  of 
the  buildings  of  the  villas,  some  of  which  reflected  the 
brilliant  rays  of  the  sun,  while  some  assumed  the  melan- 
choly character  of  the  other  half  of  the  heavens.  Below, 
on  the  left,  the  motionless  pond  gleamed  blue,  surrounded 


278  YOUTH 

by  pale  green  willows  which  stood  out  darkly  against  its 
dull  and  seemingly  swollen  surface.  Beyond  the  pond, 
half-way  up  the  hill,  stretched  a  black  steaming  field  ; 
and  the  straight  boundary  strip  of  green  which  divided 
it  in  the  middle  ran  off  into  the  distance,  and  rested  on 
the  threatening,  lead-colored  horizon.  On  both  sides 
of  the  soft  road,  along  which  the  phaeton  rolled  with 
regular  motion,  luxuriant  tangled  rye  stood  out  sharply 
in  its  verdure,  and  was  already  beginning  to  develop 
stalks  here  and  there.  The  air  was  perfectly  quiet,  and 
exhaled  freshness  ;  the  verdure  of  trees,  leaves,  and  rye 
was  motionless  and  unusually  pure  and  clear.  It  seemed 
as  though  every  leaf,  every  blade  of  grass,  were  living 
its  own  free,  happy,  individual  life.  Beside  the  road,  I 
espied  a  blackish  foot-path,  which  wound  amid  the  dark 
green  rye,  that  was  now  more  than  quarter  grown  ;  and 
this  path,  for  some  reason,  recalled  the  country  to  me  with 
special  vividness  ;  and,  in  consequence  of  my  thoughts 
of  the  country,  by  some  strange  combination  of  ideas,  it 
reminded  me  with  special  vividness  of  Sonitchka,  and 
that  I  was  in  love  with  her. 

In  spite  of  all  my  friendship  for  Dmitry,  and  the 
pleasure  which  his  frankness  afforded  me,  I  did  not 
want  to  know  any  more  about  his  feelings  and  intentions 
with,  regard  to  Liubov  Sergieevna ;  but  I  wanted,  with- 
out fail,  to  inform  him  of  my  love  for  Sonitchka,  which 
seemed  to  me  love  of  a  much  higher  type.  But,  for 
some  reason,  I  could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  tell  him 
directly  my  ideas  of  how  fine  it  would  be,  when,  having 
married  Sonitchka,  I  should  live  in  the  country ;  and 
how  I  should  have  little  children  who  would  creep  about 
the  floor  and  call  me  papa ;  and  how  delighted  I  should 
be  when  he  and  his  wife,  Liubov  Sergieevna,  came  to 
see  me  in  their  traveling  dress  :  but,  in  place  of  all  this, 
I  pointed  at  the  setting  sun.  "  See,  Dmitry,  how  charm- 
ing it  is  !  " 

Dmitry  said  nothing,  being  apparently  displeased  that 
I  had  replied  to  his  confession,  which  had  probably  cost 
him  some  pain,  by  directing  his  attention  to  nature,  to 
which  he  was,  in  general,  coolly  indifferent.      Nature 


YOUTH 


279 


affected  him  very  differently  from  what  it  did  me :  it 
affected  him  not  so  much  by  its  beauty  as  by  its  inter- 
est ;  he  loved  it  with  his  mind,  rather  than  with  his 
feelings. 

"  I  am  very  happy,"  I  said  to^  him  after  this,  paying 
no  heed  to  the  fact  that  he  was  evidently  occupied  with 
his  own  thoughts,  and  was  quite  indifferent  to  whatever 
I  might  say  to  him  ;  "  I  believe  I  told  you  about  a  young 
lady  with  whom  I  was  in  love  when  a  child  ;  I  have  seen 
her  again  to-day,"  I  continued,  with  enthusiasm,  "  and 
now  I  am  decidedly  in  love  with  her." 

And  I  told  him  about  my  love,  and  all  my  plans  for 
connubial  bliss  in  the  future,  in  spite  of  the  expression 
of  indifference  which  still  lingered  on  his  face.  And, 
strange  to  say,  no  sooner  had  I  minutely  described  all 
the  strength  of  my  feeling,  than  it  began  to  decrease. 

The  shower  overtook  us  just  after  we  had  entered  the 
birch  avenue  leading  to  the  villa.  I  only  knew  that  it 
was  raining  because  a  few  drops  fell  upon  my  nose  and 
hand,  and  something  pattered  on  the  young,  sticky  leaves 
of  the  birches,  which,  drooping  their  curling  motionless 
branches,  seemed  to  receive  these  pure,  transparent  drops 
on  themselves  with  delight,  that  was  expressed  by  the 
strong  perfume  with  which  they  filled  the  avenue.  We 
descended  from  the  calash,  in  order  to  reach  the  house 
more  quickly  by  running  through  the  garden.  But  just 
at  the  entrance  to  the  house  we  encountered  four  ladies, 
two  of  whom  had  some  work,  the  third  a  book,  and  the 
other  was  approaching  from  another  direction  with  a 
little  dog,  at  a  rapid  pace.  Dmitry  immediately  pre- 
sented me  to  his  mother,  sister,  aunt,  and  Liubov  Ser- 
gieevna.  They  stopped  for  a  moment,  but  the  rain 
began  to  descend  faster  and  faster. 

"  Let  us  go  to  the  veranda,  and  you  shall  introduce 
him  to  us  again  there,"  said  the  one  whom  I  took  to  be 
Dmitry's  mother ;  and  we  ascended  the  steps  with  the 
ladies. 


28o  YOUTH 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

THE    NEKHLIUDOFFS 

At  the  first  moment,  out  of  all  this  company  the 
one  who  struck  me  most  was  Liubov  Sergieevna,  who 
mounted  the  steps  last  of  all,  in  thick  knitted  shoes, 
holding  in  her  arms  a  spaniel,  and,  halting  twice,  gazed 
attentively  at  me  and  immediately  afterward  kissed  her 
dog.  She  was  very  ugly,  red-haired,  thin,  short,  and 
rather  one-sided.  What  rendered  her  homely  face  even 
plainer  was  her  queer  manner  of  dressing  her  hair,  all  to 
one  side  (one  of  those  coiffures  which  bald  women  invent 
for  themselves).  Try  as  I  would,  out  of  a  desire  to  please 
my  friend,  I  could  not  discover  a  single  good  feature  in 
her.  Even  her  brown  eyes,  although  they  expressed  good 
nature,  were  too  small  and  dull,  and  decidedly  ugly ; 
even  her  hands,  that  characteristic  feature,  though  not 
large,  and  not  bad  in  shape,  were  red  and  hairy. 

When  I  followed  them  on  to  the  terrace,  each  one  of 
the  ladies,  except  Varenka,  Dmitry's  sister,  who  only 
surveyed  me  attentively  with  her  great,  dark  gray  eyes, 
•said  a  few  words  to  me  before  they  resumed  their  sev- 
eral occupations  ;  but  Varenka  began  to  read  aloud  from 
the  book  which  she  held  on  her  knee,  using  her  finger 
as  a  marker. 

Princess  Marya  Ivanovna  was  a  tall,  stately  woman  of 
forty.  She  might  have  been  taken  for  more,  judging  by 
the  curls  of  half-gray  hair  which  were  frankly  displayed 
beneath  her  cap.  But  she  seemed  much  younger,  on 
account  of  her  fresh  and  delicate  face,  which  was 
scarcely  wrinkled  at  all,  and  particularly  from  the  lively, 
merry  gleam  of  her  large  eyes.  Her  eyes  were  brown, 
and  very  well  opened  ;  her  lips  were  too  thin,  and  some- 
what stern  ;  her  nose  was  sufficiently  regular,  and  a  little 
to  the  left  side ;  there  were  no  rings  on  her  large,  al- 
most masculine  hands,  with  their  long  fingers.  She 
wore  a  close,  dark-blue  dress,  which  fitted  tightly  to  her 
elegant  and  still  youthful  figure,  of  which  she  was  evi- 


YOUTH  281 

dently  proud.  She  sat  remarkably  upright,  and  sewed 
on  some  garment.  When  I  entered  the  veranda  she 
took  my  hand,  drew  me  toward  her  as  though  desirous 
of  viewing  me  more  closely,  and  said,  as  she  looked  at 
me  with  the  same  cold,  open  gaze  which  her  son  also 
possessed,  that  she  had  long  known  me  from  Dmitry's 
accounts  of  me,  and  that  she  had  invited  me  to  spend  a 
whole  day  with  them,  in  order  that  she  might  become 
better  acquainted  with  me.  "  Do  whatever  you  like, 
without  minding  us  in  the  least,  just  as  we  shall  put  no 
constraint  on  ourselves  because  of  you.  Walk,  read, 
listen,  or  sleep,  if  that  amuses  you  more,"  she  added. 

Sophia  Ivanovna  was  an  elderly  spinster  and  the  prin- 
cess's youngest  sister,  but  from  her  looks  she  seemed 
older.  She  had  that  peculiar  build,  full  of  character, 
which  is  only  met  with  in  very  plump,  short  old  maids 
who  wear  corsets.  It  was  as  if  all  her  health  had  risen 
upward  with  such  force  that  it  threatened  every  moment 
to  suffocate  her.  Her  little  fat  hands  could  not  meet 
beneath  the  projecting  point  of  her  bodice,  and  the 
tightly  stretched  point  itself  she  could  not  see.  There 
was  a  strong  family  resemblance  between  the  sisters,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  Marya  Ivanovna  had  black  hair 
and  black  eyes,  and  Sophia  Ivanovna  was  a  blond  with 
large,  lively,  and  at  the  same  time  calm,  blue  eyes  (which 
is  a  great  rarity).  They  had  the  same  expression,  the 
same  nose,  and  the  same  lips,  only  Sophia  Ivanovna's 
nose  and  lips  were  a  little  thicker,  and  on  the  right  side 
when  she  smiled,  while  the  princess's  were  on  the  left. 
Sophia  Ivanovna  evidently  tried  to  appear  young  still, 
judging  from  her  dress  and  coiffure,  and  would  not  have 
displayed  her  gray  curls  if  she  had  had  them.  Her 
looks  and  her  treatment  of  me  seemed  to  me  extremely 
haughty  from  the  very  first  moment,  and  they  embar- 
rassed me ;  while  with  the  princess,  on  the  other  hand, 
I  felt  perfectly  at  my  ease.  Possibly  it  was  her  stout- 
ness, and  a  certain  likeness  in  her  figure  to  the  portrait 
of  Catherine  the  Great  which  struck  me  in  her,  that 
gave  her  that  haughty  aspect  in  my  eyes  ;  but  I  was 
thoroughly  abashed  when  she  said  to  me,  gazing  at  me 


2«2 


YOUTH 


intently  the  while,  "The  friends  of  our  friends  are  out 
friends."  I  regained  my  composure,  and  changed  my 
opinion  of  her  entirely  only  when,  after  uttering  these 
words,  she  paused  awhile,  and  then  opened  her  mouth, 
and  sighed  heavily.  It  must  have  been  on  account  of 
her  stoutness  that  she  had  a  habit  of  sighing  deeply 
after  saying  a  few  words,  opening  her  mouth  a  little, 
and  rolling  her  large  blue  eyes.  So  much  amiable 
good  nature  was  expressed  by  this  habit,  for  some  rea- 
son or  other,  that  after  that  sigh  I  lost  all  fear  of  her, 
and  she  pleased  me  extremely.  Her  eyes  were  charm- 
ing, her  voice  melodious  and  pleasing;  even  the  excess- 
ively rounded  lines  of  her  form  seemed  to  me  at  that 
period  of  my  youth  not  devoid  of  beauty. 

Liubov  Sergieevna,  as  the  friend  of  my  friend,  would 
(I  supposed)  immediately  say  something  extremely 
friendly  and  confidential  to  me,  and  she  even  gazed  at 
me  quite  a  long  while  in  silence  as  if  in  indecision  as  to 
whether  what  she  meant  to  say  to  me  were  not  too 
friendly ;  but  she  only  broke  the  silence  in  order  to  in- 
quire in  what  university  course  I  was.  Then  she  gazed 
at  me  again  intently  for  quite  a  while,  evidently  hesitat- 
ing whether  to  utter  or  not  to  utter  that  confidential, 
friendly  word ;  and  I,  perceiving  this  doubt,  besought 
her  by  the  expression  of  my  countenance  to  tell  me  all ; 
but  she  said,  "  They  say  that  very  little  attention  is  paid 
to  science  in  the  universities  nowadays,"  and  called  her 
little  dog  Suzette. 

Liubov  Sergieevna  talked  the  whole  evening  in  the 
same  sort  of  phrases,  which,  for  the  most  part,  fitted 
neither  the  matter  in  hand  nor  each  other ;  but  I  be- 
lieved so  firmly  in  Dmitry,  and  he  looked  so  anxiously 
first  at  me  and  then  at  her  the  whole  evening  with  an 
expression  that  asked,  "  Well,  what  do  you  think  ?  "  — 
that,  as  it  frequently  happens,  although  I  was  already 
convinced  in  my  own  soul  that  there  was  nothing  so 
very  special  about  Liubov  Sergieevna,  I  was  very  far 
from  expressing  my  thought  even  to  myself. 

Finally,  the  last  member  of  this  family,  Varenka,  was 
a  very  plump  girl  of  sixteen. 


YOUTH  283 

The  only  pretty  things  about  her  were  her  great  dark 
gray  eyes,  with  an  expression  which  united  mirth  and 
calm  observation,  and  were  very  much  like  her  aunt's 
eyes  ;  her  very  large  blond  braid  of  hair ;  and  an  ex- 
tremely soft  and  pretty  hand. 

"  I  think  it  bores  you,  Mr.  Nikolas,  to  listen  to  the 
middle  of  this,"  said  Sophia  Ivanovna,  with  her  good- 
natured  sigh,  turning  over  the  pieces  of  a  garment 
which  she  was  engaged  in  sewing.  The  reading  had 
come  to  an  end  by  this  time,  because  Dmitry  had  gone 
off  somewhere. 

"  Or  perhaps  you  have  already  read  *  Rob  Roy  * .'' " 

At  that  time  I  considered  it  my  duty,  simply  because 
I  wore  a  student's  uniform,  to  reply  with  great  intelli- 
gence a7td  originality  without  fail  to  every  question, 
however  simple,  from  people  whom  I  did  not  know  very 
well ;  and  I  regarded  it  as  the  greatest  disgrace  to  make 
brief,  clear  replies  like  "yes  "  and  "no,"  "it  is  tiresome," 
"it  is  pleasant,"  and  the  like.  Glancing  at  my  fashion- 
able new  trousers,  and  at  the  brilliant  buttons  on  my 
coat,  I  replied  that  I  had  not  read  "  Rob  Roy,"  but  that 
it  was  very  interesting  to  me  to  listen  to  it,  because  I 
preferred  to  read  books  from  the  middle  instead  of  from 
the  beginning. 

"  It  is  twice  as  interesting ;  you  can  guess  at  what 
has  happened,  and  what  will  happen,"  I  added,  with  a 
self-satisfied  smile. 

The  princess  began  to  laugh  a  kind  of  unnatural  laugh 
(I  afterwards  observed  that  she  had  no  other  laugh). 

"  But  this  must  be  correct,"  said  she.  "  And  shaU 
you  remain  here  long,  Nikolas  .-*  You  will  not  take  of- 
fense that  I  address  you  without  the  nionsienrf  Whei\ 
are  you  going  away  }  " 

"  I  do  not  know ;  to-morrow  perhaps,  and  possibly  we 
may  stay  quite  a  long  time,"  I  replied  for  some  reason 
or  other,  although  we  must  certainly  go  on  the  morrow. 

"  I  should  have  liked  you  to  remain,  both  for  our  sakes 
and  for  Dmitry's,"  remarked  the  princess,  looking  off 
in  the  distance;  "friendship  is  a  glorious  thing  at  your 
age." 


284  YOUTH 

I  felt  that  they  were  all  looking  at  me,  and  waiting  to 
see  what  I  would  say,  although  Varenka  pretended  that 
she  was  inspecting  her  aunt's  work.  I  felt  that  I  was 
undergoing  examination  after  a  fashion,  and  that  I  must 
show  off  as  favorably  as  possible. 

"Yes,  for  me,"  said  I,  "Dmitry's  friendship  is  bene- 
ficial ;  but  I  cannot  be  beneficial  to  him,  he  is  a  thou- 
sand times  better  than  I."  (Dmitry  could  not  hear 
what  I  was  saying,  otherwise  I  should  have  been  afraid 
that  he  would  detect  the  insincerity  of  my  words.) 

The  princess  laughed  again  with  the  unnatural  laugh 
which  was  natural  to  her. 

"Well,  but  to  hear  him  talk,"  said  she,  "zV  is  you  who 
are  a  little  monster  of  perfectioit.''  ^ 

"M  monster  of  perfection,'  that's  capital,  I  must  re- 
member that,"  I  thought. 

"  However,  leaving  you  out  of  the  case,  he  is  a  mas- 
ter-hand at  that,"  she  went  on,  lowering  her  voice, 
(which  was  particularly  agreeable  to  me),  and  indicat- 
ing Liubov  Sergieevna  with  her  eyes.  "  He  has  discov- 
ered in  his  poor  little  aunt''  (that  was  what  they  called 
Liubov  Sergieevna),  "whom  I  have  known,  with  her 
Suzette,  for  twenty  years,  such  perfections  as  I  never 
even  suspected.  —  Varya,  order  them  to  bring  me  a 
glass  of  water,"  she  added,  glancing  into  the  distance 
again,  having  probably  discovered  that  it  was  rather 
early,  or  not  at  all  necessary,  to  initiate  me  into  family 
affairs;  "or,  better  still,  let  Jiim  go.  He  has  nothing 
to  do,  and  do  you  go  on  reading.  —  Go  straight  into 
that  door,  my  friend,  and  after  you  have  traversed  fif- 
teen paces,  halt,  and  say  in  a  loud  voice,  *  Piotr,  take 
Marya  Ivanovna  a  glass  of  ice-water ! '  "  she  said  to  me, 
and  again  she  laughed  lightly  with  her  unnatural  laugh. 

"  She  certainly  wants  to  discuss  me,"  I  thought,  as  I 
left  the  room  ;  "probably  she  wants  to  say  that  she  has 
observed  that  I  am  a  very,  very  intelligent  young  man." 
But  I  had  not  gone  fifty  paces  when  fat  and  panting 
Sophia  Ivanovna  overtook  me  with  light,  swift  steps. 

'' Mej'ci,  mofi  cher,"  said  she;  "I  am  going  there 
myself,  and  I  will  tell  him." 

^  The  italicized  words  are  in  French. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

LOVE 

Sophia  Ivanovna,  as  I  afterward  learned,  was  one 
of  those  rare  elderly  women  who,  though  born  for  family 
life,  have  been  denied  this  happiness  by  fate,  and  who, 
in  consequence  of  this  denial,  decide' all  at  once  to  pour 
out  all  the  treasure  of  love  which  has  been  stored  up  so 
long,  which  has  grown  and  strengthened  in  their  hearts, 
upon  certain  chosen  favorites.  And  the  store  is  so 
inexhaustible  among  old  maids  of  this  sort,  that,  al- 
though the  chosen  ones  are  many,  much  love  still  re- 
mains, which  they  pour  out  upon  all  about  them,  on  all 
the  good  and  bad  people  with  whom  they  come  in  con- 
tact in  life. 

There  are  three  kinds  of  love  :  — 

(i)  Beautiful  love ; 

(2)  Self-sacrificing  love  ;  and 

(3)  Active  love. 

I  do  not  speak  of  the  love  of  a  young  man  for  a  young 
girl,  and  hers  for  him  ;  I  fear  these  tendernesses,  and  I 
have  been  so  unfortunate  in  life  as  never  to  have  seen 
a  single  spark  of  truth  in  this  species  of  love,  but  only 
a  lie,  in  which  sentiment,  connubial  relations,  money,  a 
desire  to  bind  or  to  unbind  one's  hands,  have  to  such  an 
extent  confused  the  feeling  itself,  that  it  has  been  im- 
possible to  disentangle  it.  I  am  speaking  of  the  love 
for  man  which,  according  to  the  greater  or  lesser  power 
of  soul,  concentrates  itself  upon  one,  upon  several,  or 
pours  itself  out  upon  many ;  of  the  love  for  mother, 
father,  brother,  children,  for  a  comrade,  friends,  fellow- 
countrymen,  —  of  love  for  man. 

Beautiful  love  consists  in  love  for  the  beauty  of  the 
sentiment  itself,  and  its  expression.  For  people  who 
love  thus,  the  beloved  object  is  beloved  only  inasmuch  as 
it  arouses  that  agreeable  sentiment,  in  the  consciousness 
and  expression  of  which  they  delight.  People  who  love 
with    beautiful  love  care  very  little  about    reciprocity, 


286  YOiJTH 

as  for  an  item  which  has  no  influence  upon  the  beauty 
and  pleasure  of  the  sentiment.  They  frequently  change 
the  objects  of  their  love,  as  their  chief  aim  consists 
simply  in  having  the  agreeable  feeling  of  love  con- 
stantly excited.  In  order  to  preserve  this  pleasing  sen- 
timent in  themselves,  they  talk  incessantly  of  their 
affection  in  the  most  elegant  terms,  both  to  the  object 
of  it,  and  to  every  one  else,  even  to  those  who  have 
no  concern  whatever  with  this  love.  In  our  country, 
people  of  a  certain  class,  who  love  beajitifnlly,  not  only 
talk  about  their  love  to  every  one,  but  infallibly  discuss 
it  in  French.  It  is  a  queer  and  a  strange  thing  to  say ; 
but  I  am  convinced  that  there  have  been  and  still  are 
many  people  of  distinguished  society,  especially  women, 
whose  love  for  their  friends,  their  husbands,  and  their 
children  would  be  instantly  annihilated  if  they  were  but 
forbidden  to  speak  of  it  in  French. 

The  second  species  of  love  —  self-sacrificing  love  — 
consists  in  love  of  the  process  of  immolating  one's  self 
for  the  beloved  object,  without  any  regard  to  whether 
the  beloved  object  is  the  better  or  the  worse  for  these 
sacrifices.  "  There  is  nothing  so  disagreeable  that  I 
would  not  do  it  in  order  to  prove  my  devotion  to  the 
whole  world,  and  to  him  or  to  herT  That  is  the  for- 
mula of  this  species  of  love.  People  who  love,  thus 
never  believe  in  reciprocity  (because  it  is  more  merito- 
rious to  sacrifice  one's  self  for  a  person  who  does  not 
understand  me),  and  are  always  sickly,  which  also 
heightens  the  merit  of  the  sacrifice  ;  they  are  constant, 
for  the  most  part,  because  it  would  be  hard  for  them  to 
lose  the  merit  of  those  sacrifices  which  they  have  made 
for  the  beloved  object ;  they  are  always  ready  to  die  to 
prove  to  him  or  to  Jier  the  extent  of  their  devotion,  but 
they  despise  the  little  everyday  demonstrations  of  love 
which  do  not  require  special  outbursts  of  self-sacrifice. 
It  makes  no  difference  to  them  whether  you  have  eaten 
or  slept  well,  whether  you  are  cheery,  or  whether  you 
are  in  health,  and  they  do  nothing  to  procure  you  those 
comforts  if  they  are  within  their  power  ;  but  to  stand  in 
front  of  a  bullet,  to  fling  themselves  into  the  water  or 


YOUTH  287 

into  the  fire,  to  go  into  a  decline  for  love,  —  they  are 
always  ready  to  do  that  if  the  opportunity  only  presents 
itself.  Moreover,  people  who  are  inclined  to  self-sacri- 
ficing love  are  always  proud  of  their  love,  exacting, 
jealous,  distrustful;  and,  strange  to  say,  they  desire 
danger  for  its  object,  that  they  may  rescue  him  from 
his  misfortune,  that  they  may  comfort  him, — and  even 
vices,  that  they  may  reform  him. 

You  are  living  alone  in  the  country  with  your  wife, 
who  loves  you  with  self-sacrificing  love.  You  are  well, 
calm,  you  have  occupations  which  you  like  ;  your  loving 
wife  is  so  weak  that  she  cannot  busy  herself  with  the 
management  of  the  household,  which  is  confided  to  the 
hands  of  domestics,  nor  with  the  children,  who  are  in 
the  hands  of  nurses,  nor  with  anything  which  she  might 
love,  because  she  loves  nothing  but  you.  She  is  visibly 
ill,  but,  not  wishing  to  pain  you,  she  will  not  mention 
this  to  you  ;  she  is  plainly  bored,  but  for  your  sake  she 
is  ready  to  be  bored  all  her  life.  The  fact  that  you  are 
so  intently  occupied  with  your  affairs  (whatever  they 
may  be,  hunting,  books,  farming,  service)  is  visibly 
killing  her ;  she  sees  that  these  occupations  are  ruining 
you,  but  she  holds  her  peace  and  suffers.  But  now  you 
fall  ill.  Your  loving  wife  forgets  her  illness  for  you,  and 
in  spite  of  your  prayer  that  she  will  not  torment  herself 
for  nothing,  she  sits  by  your  bedside,  and  will  not  leave 
it ;  and  you  feel  her  sympathetic  glance  upon  you  every 
second,  saying,  "  I  told  you  so,  but  it  makes  no  differ- 
ence to  me,  I  will  not  leave  you."  In  the  morning  you 
are  a  little  better,  and  you  go  to  another  room.  The 
room  is  not  warmed,  nor  put  in  order ;  the  soup,  which 
is  the  only  thing  you  can  eat,  has  not  been  ordered  from 
the  cook  ;  the  medicine  has  not  been  sent  for  ;  but  your 
poor,  loving  wife,  exhausted  by  her  vigil,  gazes  at  you 
with  the  same  expression  of  sympathy,  walks  on  tiptoe, 
and  gives  the  servants  confused  and  unaccustomed 
orders  in  a  whisper.  You  want  to  read ;  your  loving 
wife  tells  you  with  a  sigh  that  she  knows  you  will  not 
listen  to  her,  that  you  will  be  angry  with  her,  but  she  is 
used  to  that,  —  it  is  better  for  you  not  to  read.     You 


288  YOUTH 

want  to  walk  across  the  room  ;  you  had  better  not  do 
it.  You  want  to  speak  to  a  friend  who  has  arrived ;  it 
is  better  for  you  not  to  talk.  You  have  fever  again  in 
the  night,  and  you  want  to  forget  yourself;  but  your 
loving  wife,  pale,  haggard,  sighing  from  time  to  time, 
sits  opposite  you  in  an-  arm-chair,  under  the  half-light  of 
the  night-lamp,  and  arouses  in  you  a  feeling  of  irritation 
and  impatience  by  the  slightest  sound  or  movement. 
You  have  a  servant  who  has  lived  with  you  for  twenty 
years,  to  whom  you  are  accustomed,  who  serves  you 
admirably  and  satisfactorily  because  he  has  slept  suffi- 
ciently during  the  day,  and  receives  wages  for  his  ser- 
vices ;  but  she  will  not  permit  him  to  wait  upon  you. 
She  will  do  everything  with  her  own  weak,  unskilled 
fingers,  which  you  cannot  avoid  watching  with  repressed 
vexation,  when  those  white  fingers  strive  in  vain  to 
uncork  a  vial,  to  extinguish  a  candle,  to  pour  out  your 
medicine,  or  when  they  touch  you  squeamishly.  If  you 
are  an  impatient,  hot-tempered  man,  and  beg  her  to  go 
away,  you  hear  her  with  your  irritated,  sickly  sense  of 
hearing,  sighing  and  crying  outside  the  door,  and  whis- 
pering something  to  your  man.  Finally,  if  you  do  not  die, 
your  loving  wife,  who  has  not  slept  all  the  twenty  nights 
during  which  your  sickness  has  lasted  (as  she  repeats  to 
you  incessantly),  falls  ill,  goes  into  a  decline,  suffers, 
and  becomes  still  less  capable  of  any  occupation,  and, 
by  the  time  you  are  in  a  normal  condition,  expresses 
her  love  of  self-sacrifice  only  by  a  gentle  ennui  which 
involuntarily  communicates  itself  to  you,  and  to  all 
about  you. 

The  third  sort — active  love  —  consists  in  the  endeavor 
to  satisfy  all  needs,  desires,  whims,  all  vices  even,  of 
the  beloved  object.  People  who  love  thus  always  love 
for  life  ;  for,  the  more  they  love,  the  more  they  know 
the  beloved  object,  and  the  easier  it  is  for  them  to  love  ; 
that  is,  to  satisfy  his  desires.  Their  love  is  rarely  ex- 
pressed in  words ;  and,  if  expressed,  it  is  not  with  self- 
satisfaction,  eloquently,  but  shamefacedly,  awkwardly, 
for  they  are  always  afraid  that  they  do  not  love  suffi- 
ciently.    They  seek  reciprocity,  even  willingly  deceiv- 


YOUTH  289 

ing  themselves,  believe  in  it,  and  are  happy  if  they  have 
it ;  but  they  love  all  the  same,  even  under  the  opposite 
conditions,  and  not  only  desire  happiness  for  the  beloved 
object,  but  constantly  strive  to  procure  it  for  him  by  all 
the  moral  and  material,  the  great  and  petty,  means  which 
are  in  their  power. 

And  it  was  this  active  love  for  her  nephew,  for  her 
sister,  for  Liubov  Sergieevna,  for  me,  even,  because 
Dmitry  loved  me,  which  shone  in  the  eyes,  in  every 
word  and  movement,  of  Sophia  Ivanovna. 

It  was  only  much  later  that  I  estimated  Sophia  Iva- 
novna at  her  full  worth  ;  but  even  then  the  question 
occurred  to  me,  Why  did  Dmitry,  who  was  trying  to 
understand  love  in  a  totally  different  fashion  from  what 
was  usual  with  young  men,  and  who  had  always  before 
his  eyes  this  sweet,  affectionate  Sophia  Ivanovna,  sud- 
denly fall  in  love  with  that  incomprehensible  Liubov 
Sergieevna,  and  only  admit  that  his  aunt  also  possessed 
good  qualities?  Evidently,  the  saying  is  just:  "A 
prophet  has  no  honor  in  his  own  country."  One  of 
two  things  must  be  :  either  there  actually  is  more  evil 
than  good  in  every  man,  or  else  man  is  more  accessible 
to  evil  than  to  good.  He  had  not  known  Liubov  Ser- 
gieevna long,  but  his  aunt's  love  he  had  experienced 
ever  since  his  birth. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

I    BECOME    ACQUAINTED 

When  I  returned  to  the  veranda,  th'ey  were  not  speak- 
ing of  me  at  all,  as  I  had  supposed  ;  and  Varenka  was 
not  reading,  but,  having  laid  aside  her  book,  she  was 
engaged  in  a  hot  dispute  with  Dmitry,  who  was  pacing 
back  and  forth,  settling  his  neck  in  his  neckerchief, 
and  screwing  up  his  eyes.  The  subject  of  their  quarrel 
seemed  to  be  Ivan  Yakovlevitch  and  superstition ;  but 
the  quarrel  was  so  fiery,  that  the  real  but  unmentioned 
cause  could  not  fail  to  be  a  different  one,  and  one  which 


290 


YOUTH 


touched  the  whole  family  more  nearly.  The  princess 
and  Liubov  Sergieevna  sat  silent,  listening  to  every 
word,  evidently  desirous  at  times  to  take  part  in  the  dis- 
cussion,  but  restraining  themselves,  and  allowing  them- 
selves to  be  represented,  the  one  by  Varenka,  the  other 
by  Dmitry,  When  I  entered,  Varenka  glanced  at  me 
with  such  an  expression  of  indifference  that  it  was  plain 
that  the  dispute  interested  her  deeply,  and  that  it  made 
no  difference  to  her  whether  I  heard  what  she  said  or 
not.  The  princess,  who  evidently  was  on  Varenka's 
side,  wore  the  same  expression.  But  Dmitry  began  to 
dispute  with  even  greater  heat  in  my  presence  ;  and 
Liubov  Sergieevna  seemed  excessively  frightened  at  my 
appearance,  and  said,  without  addressing  any  one  in 
particular,  "  Old  people  say  truly :  If  youth  knew,  if  old 
age  had  the  power  "  {Si  jeunesse  savait,  si  vieillesse 
poiivait). 

But  this  adage  did  not  put  an  end  to  the  dispute,  and 
only  prompted  the  thought  in  me  that  Liubov  Sergieevna 
and  my  friend  were  in  the  wrong.  Although  I  felt 
rather  awkward  at  being  present  at  a  petty  family 
quarrel,  it  was  nevertheless  pleasant  to  observe  the  real 
relations  of  this  family,  which  were  exhibited  in  conse- 
quence of  the  debate ;  and  I  felt  that  my  presence  did 
not  prevent  their  exhibiting  themselves. 

It  often  happens  that  you  see  a  family  for  years 
under  the  same  deceitful  veil  of  propriety,  and  the  true 
relations  of  the  members  remain  a  secret  to  you.  (I 
have  even  observed  that,  the  more  impenetrable  and 
ornamental  the  curtain,  the  coarser  are  the  genuine 
relations  which  are  concealed  from  you.)  Then  it  comes 
to  pass  on  a  day,  cfuite  unexpectedly,  that  there  arises  in 
this  family  circle  some  question,  often  apparently  trivial, 
concerning  some  blonde  woman,  or  a  visit  with  the  hus- 
band's horses  :  and,  without  any  visible  cause,  the  quar- 
rel grows  more  and  more  violent,  the  space  beneath  the 
curtain  becomes  too  contracted  for  a  settlement,  and  all 
at  once,  to  the  terror  of  the  wranglers  themselves,  and 
to  the  amazement  of  those  present,  all  the  real,  coarse 
relations  creep  out ;  the  curtain,  which  no  longer  covers 


YOUTH  291 

anything,  flutters  useless  between  the  warring  sides, 
and  only  serves  to  remind  you  how  long  you  have  been 
deceived  by  it.  Often  it  is  not  so  painful  to  dash  one's 
head  against  the  ceiling  in  full  swing  as  it  is  to  touch  a 
sore  and  sensitive  spot,  though  ever  so  lightly.  And 
such  a  sore  and  sensitive  spot  exists  in  nearly  every 
family.  In  the  Nekhliudoff  family,  this  sensitive  spot 
consisted  of  Dmitry's  strange  love  for  Liubov  Sergieevna, 
which  aroused  in  his  mother  and  sister,  if  not  a  sense 
of  envy,  at  least  a  sentiment  of  wounded  family  feeling. 
Therefore  it  was  that  the  dispute  about  Ivan  Yakovle- 
vitch  and  superstition  held  such  a  serious  significance 
for  all  of  them. 

"  You  are  always  trying  to  see  into  what  other  people 
ridicule  and  despise,"  said  Varenka,  in  her  melodious 
voice,  pronouncing  every  letter  distinctly.  "  It  is  just 
in  all  those  kinds  of  things  that  you  try  to  discover 
something  remarkably  fine." 

"  In  the  first  place,  only  the  most  frivolous  of  men 
can  speak  of  despising  such  a  remarkable  man  as  Ivan 
Yakovlevitch,"  retorted  Dmitry,  jerking  his  head  spas- 
modically away  from  his  sister;  "and  in  the  second 
place,  yo2i  are  trying  purposely  not  to  see  the  good 
which  stands  before  your  very  eyes." 

On  her  return  to  us,  Sophia  Ivanovna  glanced  several 
times,  in  a  frightened  way,  now  at  her  nephew,  then  at 
her  niece,  then  at  me  ;  and  twice  she  opened  her  mouth 
as  though  to  speak,  and  sighed  heavily. 

"  Please,  Varya,  read  as  quickly  as  possible,"  she  said, 
handing  her  the  book,  and  tapping  her  caressingly  on 
the  hand  ;  "  I  am  very  anxious  to  know  whether  they 
found  her  again.  [It  seems  that  there  is  no  question 
whatever,  in  the  book,  of  any  one  finding  any  one  else.] 
And  as  for  you,  Mitya,  my  dear,  you  had  better  wrap 
up  your  cheek,  for  the  air  is  fresh,  and  your  teeth  will 
ache  again,"  said  she  to  her  nephew,  notwithstanding 
the  look  of  displeasure  which  he  cast  upon  her,  probably 
because  she  had  broken  the  thread  of  his  argument 
The  reading  was  resumed. 

This  little  quarrel  did  not  in  the  least  disturb  the  fam 


292  YOUTH 

ily  peace,  and  the  perceptible  concord  which  breathed 
from  that  feminine  circle. 

This  circle,  to  which  Princess  Marya  Ivanovna  evi- 
dently gave  the  character  and  direction,  had  for  me  a 
perfectly  novel  and  attractive  tone,  of  a  certain  sort  of 
logic,  and  at  the  same  time  of  simplicity  and  elegance. 
This  tone  was  expressed  for  me  by  the  beauty,  purity, 
and  simplicity  of  things, — the  bell,  the  binding  of  the 
book,  the  arm-chair,  the  table  ;  and  in  the  straight,  snug 
bodice,  in  the  pose  of  the  princess,  in  her  gray  curls  dis- 
played and  in  her  manner  of  calling  me  simply  Nikolas, 
and  /le,  at  our  first  meeting ;  in  their  occupations,  the 
reading  aloud,  the  sewing ;  and  in  the  remarkable  white- 
ness of  the  ladies'  hands.  (They  all  had  a  common  fam- 
ily mark  on  the  hand,  which  consisted  in  the  soft  portion 
of  the  palm  being  of  a  deep  red  hue,  and  separated  by  a 
sharp,  straight  line  from_  the  unusual  whiteness  of  the 
upper  part  of  the  hand.)  But  this  character  was  ex- 
pressed, most  of  all,  in  the  excellent  manner  in  which 
all  three  spoke  French  and  Russian,  pronouncing 
every  letter  distinctly,  and  finishing  every  word  and 
phrase  with  pedantic  accuracy.  All  this,  and  in  par- 
ticular the  fact  that  they  treated  me  simply  and  seri- 
ously in  this  society,  as  a  grown-up  person,  uttered 
their  own  thoughts  to  me,  listened  to  my  opinions,  —  to 
this  I  was  so  little  accustomed  that,  in  spite  of  my 
brilliant  buttons  and  blue  facings,  I  was  still  afraid  they 
would  say  to  me,  all  at  once,  "  Do  you  think  people  are 
going  to  talk  seriously  with  you  .-*  go  study  !  "  —  all  this 
resulted  in  my  not  feeling  the  slightest  embarrassment 
in  their  society.  I  rose  and  changed  my  seat  from 
place  to  place,  and  talked  with  all  except  Varenka,  to 
whom  it  still  seemed  to  me  improper,  for  some  reason, 
to  speak  first. 

During  the  reading,  as  I  listened  to  her  pleasant 
voice,  I  glanced  now  at  her,  now  at  the  sandy  path  of 
the  flower-garden,  upon  which  dark  round  spots  of  rain 
were  forming,  upon  the  lindens,  on  whose  leaves  occa- 
sional drops  of  rain  still  continued  to  patter  from  the 
pale,  bluish  edge  of  the  thinning  thunder-cloud  which 


YOUTH 


^93 


enveloped  us,  then  at  her  again,  then  at  the  last  crim- 
son rays  of  the  setting  sun,  which  illuminated  the  dense 
and  ancient  birches  all  dripping  with  rain,  and  then  at 
Varenka  again  ;  and  I  decided  that  she  was  not  at  all 
ugly,  as  she  had  seemed  to  me  at  first. 

"It's  a  pity  that  I  am  already  in  love,"  I  thought, 
"  and  that  Varenka  is  not  Sonitchka.  How  nice  it 
would  be  suddenly  to  become  a  member  of  this  family  ! 
I  should  gain  a  mother  and  an  aunt  and  a  wife  all  at 
once."  And,  as  meditating  thus  I  glanced  at  Varenka 
as  she  read,  and  thought  that  I  would  magnetize  her, 
and  make  her  look  at  me,  Varenka  raised  her  head  from 
her  book,  glanced  at  me,  and,  meeting  my  eyes,  turned 
away. 

"  It  has  not  stopped  raining  yet,"  she  said. 

And  all  at  once  I  experienced  a  strange  sensation.  I 
suddenly  recollected  that  what  was  now  happening  to 
me  was  an  exact  repetition  of  what  had  happened  once 
before ;  that  then,  also,  a  light  rain  was  falling,  and  the 
sun  was  setting  behind  the  birches,  and  I  was  looking 
at  //(?;',  and  she  was  reading,  and  I  had  magnetized  her, 
and  she  had  glanced  up,  and  I  had  even  recollected  that 
this  had  happened  before. 

"Is  it  she.?  s/ief"  I  thought.  "  Is  it  begmnijigf" 
But  I  speedily  decided  that  she  was  not  the  sJic,  and 
that  it  was  not  beginning  yet.  "  In  the  first  place,  she 
is  ugly,"  I  thought ;  "and  in  the  next  place,  she  is  sim- 
ply a  young  lady,  and  I  have  made  her  acquaintance 
in  the  most  commonplace  manner.  But  sJic  will  be 
remarkable,  and  I  shall  meet  her  somewhere,  in  some 
uncommon  place;  and,  besides,  this  family  only  pleases 
me  so  much  because  I  have  not  seen  anything  yet,"  I 
decided.  "  But  of  course  there  are  always  such,  and  I 
shall  meet  with  many  during  my  life." 


294  YOUTH 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

I   SHOW  MYSELF   FROM   THE    MOST   ADVANTAGEOUS  POINT 

OF    VIEW 

At  tea-time  the  reading  came  to  an  end  ;  and  the 
ladies  engaged  in  a  conversation  between  themselves, 
about  persons  and  circumstances  with  which  I  was  un- 
familiar, expressly,  so  it  seemed  to  me,  for  the  purpose 
of  making  me  feel,  in  spite  of  my  cordial  reception,  the 
difference  which  existed,  both  in  years  and  in  worldly 
position,  between  them  and  me.  But  in  the  general 
conversation,  in  which  I  could  take  part,  I  made  up  for 
my  former  silence,  and  endeavored  to  exhibit  my  remark- 
able intelligence  and  originality,  which  I  considered  that 
my  uniform  specially  bound  me  to  do.  When  the  con- 
versation turned  on  country-houses,  I  suddenly  related 
how  Prince  Ivan  Ivanitch  had  such  a  villa  near  Moscow 
that  people  came  from  London  and  Paris  to  see  it ;  that 
there  was  a  grating  there  which  was  worth  three  hun- 
dred and  eighty  thousand  rubles ;  and  that  Prince  Ivan 
Ivanitch  was  a  very  near  relative  of  mine,  and  that  I 
had  dined  with  him  that  day,  and  he  had  told  me  that 
I  must  be  sure  to  come  and  spend  the  whole  summer 
with  him  at  that  villa,  but  that  I  had  refused,  because  I 
knew  the  house  very  well,  since  I  had  been  there  a  num- 
ber of  times,  and  that  all  those  fences  and  bridges  were 
not  at  all  interesting  to  me  because  I  could  not  bear 
luxury,  especially  in  the  country,  and  that  I  liked  every- 
thing in  the  country  to  be  like  the  country.  Having 
uttered  this  strangely  complicated  lie,  I  became  con- 
fused, and  turned  so  red  that  every  one  must  have 
certainly  perceived  that  I  was  lying.  Varenka,  who 
handed  me  a  cup  of  tea  at  that  moment,  and  Sophia 
Ivanovna,  who  had  been  gazing  at  me  while  I  was  speak- 
ing, both  turned  away  from  me,  and  began  to  talk  of 
something  else,  with  an  expression  of  countenance  which 
I  have  often  met  with  in  good  people  since  then,  when 
a  very  young  man  begins  plainly  to  lie  in  their  very 


YOUTH  295 

faces,  and  which  signifies,  "  Of  course  we  know  that  he 
is  lying,  and  why  he  does  it,  poor  fellow !  " 

The  reason  why  I  said  that  Prince  Ivan  Ivanitch  had 
a  villa  was  that  I  saw  no  better  pretext  for  mentioning 
my  relationship  to  Prince  Ivan  Ivanitch,  and  that  I  had 
dined  with  him  that  day ;  but  why  did  I  tell  about  that 
grating  worth  three  hundred  and  eighty  thousand  rubles, 
and  that  I  had  been  to  his  house  so  often,  when  I  had 
never  been  even  once,  and  could  not  go,  since  Prince 
Ivan  Ivanitch  lived  only  in  Moscow  or  Naples,  which 
the  Nekhliudoffs  knew  very  well  ?  I  really  cannot 
account  to  myself  for  it.  Neither  in  childhood,  nor 
boyhood,  nor  afterward  in  a  riper  stage  of  growth,  have 
I  ever  detected  the  vice  of  lying  in  myself  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, I  have  been  rather  too  frank  and  upright  :  but, 
during  this  first  period  of  adolescence,  a  strange  desire 
to  lie  in  the  most  desperate  manner,  and  without  any 
apparent  cause,  frequently  took  possession  of  me.  I  say 
"desperate  manner"  expressly,  because  I  lied  about 
things  where  it  was  extremely  easy  to  find  me  out.  It 
seems  to  me  that  a  vainglorious  desire  to  show  myself 
off  as  an  entirely  different  man  from  what  I  am,  united 
to  the  impracticable  hope  in  life  of  lying  so  as  not  to  be 
detected  in  the  lie,  was  the  chief  cause  of  this  strange 
tendency. 

After  tea,  as  the  rain  had  ceased,  and  the  weather 
was  clear  and  calm,  the  princess  proposed  that  we 
should  go  for  a  walk  in  the  lower  park,  and  admire 
her  favorite  spot.  In  accordance  with  my  rule  of  always 
being  original,  and  considering  that  such  clever  people 
as  the  princess  and  myself  must  stand  above  trivial 
politeness,  I  replied  that  I  could  not  bear  to  walk  with- 
out an  object,  and  if  I  cared  to  walk  at  all,  it  was  quite 
alone.  I  had  no  idea  that  this  was  downright  rude ; 
but  it  seemed  to  me  then  that  there  was  nothing  more 
disgraceful  than  state  compliments,  that  nothing  was 
more  amiable  and  original  than  a  little  discourteous 
frankness.  Nevertheless,  quite  content  with  my  an- 
swer, I  went  to  walk  with  the  rest  of  the  company. 

The  princess's  favorite  spot  was  at  the  very  bottom 


296  YOUTH 

of  the  park  in  its  depths,  on  a  little  bridge  which  was 
thrown  over  a  small  swamp.  The  view  was  extremely 
restricted,  but  very  melancholy  and  pleasing.  We  are 
so  accustomed  to  confounding  art  with  nature,  that  very 
frequently  those  manifestations  of  nature  which  we  have 
never  encountered  in  pictures  seem  to  us  unnatural,  — 
as  though  nature  could  be  unnatural,  —  and  those  phe- 
nomena which  have  been  too  frequently  repeated  in  art 
seem  to  us  threadbare.  But  some  views,  too  thoroughly 
penetrated  with  thought  and  sentiment  alone,  seem 
fantastic  when  we  come  upon  them  in  nature.  The 
view  from  the  princess's  favorite  place  was  of  this 
nature.  It  consisted  of  a  small  pond  with  overgrown 
'banks  ;  directly  behind  it  was  a  steep  hill  covered  with 
vast,  ancient  trees  and  bushes,  with  frequent  changes  in 
its  many-hued  verdure  ;  and  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  droop- 
ing over  the  pond,  an  ancient  birch,  which,  partly  cling- 
ing to  the  damp  bank  of  the  pool  with  its  thick  roots, 
rested  its  crown  upon  a  tall  and  stately  ash  tree,  and 
swung  its  curling  branches  over  the  smooth  surface  of 
the  pond,  which  gave  back  the  reflection  of  these  droop- 
ing boughs  and  the  surrounding  greenery. 

"How  charming!"  said  the  princess,  shaking  her 
head,  and  not  addressing  any  one  in  particular. 

"  Yes,  it  is  wonderful,  only  it  seems  to  me  that  it  is 
frightfully  like  theatrical  scenery,"  said  I,  desirous  of 
showing  that  I  had  an  opinion  of  my  own  on  every- 
thing. 

The  princess  continued  to  admire  the  view  as  though 
she  had  not  heard  my  remark,  and,  turning  to  her  sister 
and  Liubov  Sergieevna,  she  pointed  out  separate  details, 
—  the  crooked  overhanging  stump,  and  the  reflection, 
which  particularly  pleased  her.  Sophia  Ivanovna  said 
that  it  was  all  very  beautiful,  and  that  her  sister  was 
in  the  habit  of  passing  several  hours  at  a  time  here  ; 
but  it  was  evident  that  she  only  said  so  to  please  the 
princess.  I  have  observed  that  people  who  are  en- 
dowed with  the  faculty  of  love  are  rarely  sensitive  to 
the  beauties  of  nature.  Liubov  Sergieevna  also  went 
in   raptures,  asking,    "What    does  that  birch  hold  to? 


YOUTH  297 

will  it  stand  long  ? "  and  she  glanced  constantly  at  her 
Suzette,  who  ran  back  and  forth  across  the  bridge  on 
her  crooked  legs,  wagging  her  tail  with  an  anxious  ex- 
pression, as  though  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  it  had 
chanced  to  her  not  to  be  in  a  room.  Dmitry  began  a 
logical  argument  with  his  mother,  on  the  point  that  no 
view  could  be  very  beautiful  where  the  horizon  was 
limited.  Varenka  said  nothing.  When  I  glanced  found 
at  her,  she  was  standing  leaning  on  the  railing  of  the 
bridge,  with  her  profile  toward  me,  and  looking  straight 
in  front  of  her.  Something  probably  interested  her 
deeply,  and  even  touched  her  ;  for  she  had  evidently 
forgotten  herself,  and  had  no  thought  for  herself  or  that 
she  was  being  looked  at.  Her  large  eyes  were  so  full 
of  intent  observation,  of  calm,  clear  thought,  her  pose 
was  so  unaffected,  and  in  spite  of  her  short  stature  there 
was  so  much  majesty  about  her,  that  I  was  again  struck 
by  what  seemed  a  memory  of  her,  and  again  I  asked 
myself,  "Is  it  not  beginning  .!* "  and  again  I  answered 
myself  that  I  was  already  in  love  with  Sonitchka,  and 
that  Varenka  was  simply  a  young  lady,  the  sister  of  my 
friend.  But  she  pleased  me  at  that  moment,  and  I  felt 
in  consequence  an  unbounded  desire  to  do  or  say  to  her 
some  little  unpleasant  thing. 

"  Do  you  know,  Dmitry,"  I  said  to  my  friend,  ap- 
proaching nearer  to  Varenka,  in  order  that  she  might 
hear  what  I  was  about  to  say,  "I  think  that,  even  if 
there  were  not  any  mosquitoes,  there  would  be  nothing 
beautiful  about  this  place  ;  and  now,"  I  added,  slapping 
my  forehead,  and  really  crushing  a  mosquito,  "  it 's  per- 
fectly dreadful." 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  love  nature,"  said  Varenka  to 
me,  without  turning  her  head. 

"  I  think  it  is  an  idle,  useless  occupation,"  I  replied, 
very  well  satisfied  with  having  uttered  my  little  unpleas- 
antness, and  having  been  original.  Varenka  raised  her 
eyebrows  in  an  almost  imperceptible  manner  for  a 
moment,  with  an  expression  of  pity,  and  continued  to 
look  straight  before  her  as  composedly  as  ever. 

I  was  vexed  with  her ;  but,  in  spite  of  this,  the  grayish 


298  YOUTH 

railing  of  the  bridge  with  its  faded  paint,  upon  which 
she  leaned,  the  reflection  in  the  dark  pond  of  the  droop- 
ing stump  of  the  overturned  birch,  which  seemed  desir- 
ous of  joining  its  drooping  branches,  the  odor  of  the 
swamp,  the  feeling  of  the  crushed  mosquito  upon  my 
forehead,  and  her  attentive  gaze  and  majestic  attitude, 
often  presented  themselves  afterward  quite  unexpectedly 
to  my  imagination. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

DMITRY 

When  we  returned  home  after  our  walk,  Varenka 
did  not  wish  to  sing  as  she  usually  did  in  the  evening ; 
and  I  had  the  self-assurance  to  set  it  down  to  my  own 
account,  fancying  that  the  cause  was  what  I  had  said 
to  her  on  the  bridge.  The  Nekhliudoffs  did  not  have 
supper,  and  dispersed  early  ;  and  that  day,  since  Dmitry's 
teeth  began  to  ache,  as  Sophia  Ivanovna  had  predicted,  we 
went  off  to  his  room  even  earlier  than  usual.  Supposing 
that  I  had  done  all  that  my  blue  collar  and  my  buttons  re- 
quired of  me,  and  that  I  had  pleased  everybody,  I  was  in  an 
extremely  amiable,  self-satisfied  frame  of  mind.  Dmitry, 
on  the  contrary,  in  consequence  of  the  quarrel  and  his 
toothache,  was  silent  and  morose.  He  seated  himself 
at  the  table,  got  out  his  note-books,  his  diary,  and  the 
book  in  which  he  was  accustomed  to  write  down  every 
evening  his  past  and  future  occupations,  and  wrote  in 
them  for  quite  a  long  time,  frowning  incessantly,  and 
touching  his  cheek  with  his  hand. 

"  Oh,  leave  me  in  peace  !  "  he  shouted  at  the  maid  who 
had  been  sent  by  Sophia  Ivanovna  to  inquire  how  his 
teeth  were,  and  if  he  did  not  want  to  make  himself  a 
fomentation.  After  that,  telling  me  that  my  bed  would 
be  ready  directly,  and  that  he  would  retire  immediately, 
he  went  to  Liubov  Sergieevna. 

"  What  a  pity  that  Varenka  is  not  pretty,  and  par- 
ticularly that   she   is   not   Sonitchka ! "      I   meditated, 


YOUTH  299 

when  I  was  left  alone  in  the  room.  "  How  pleasant 
it  would  be  to  come  to  them,  and  offer  her  my  hand, 
when  I  leave  the  university !  I  should  say,  '  Princess, 
I  am  no  longer  young ;  I  cannot  love  passionately  ;  but 
I  shall  always  love  you  like  a  dear  sister.'  'I  already 
respect  you,'  I  should  say  to  her  mother;  'and  as  for 
you,  Sophia  Ivanovna,  pray  believe  that  I  esteem  you 
highly.  Then  say  simply  and  plainly,  will  you  be  my 
wife  ?'  —  '  Yes  ; '  and  she  will  give  me  her  hand,  and  I 
shall  press  it,  and  say,  '  My  love  is  not  in  words,  but  in 
deeds.'  Well,  and  what  if  Dmitry  should  all  at  once 
fall  in  love  with  Liubotchka.^ "  came  into  my  mind, — 
"for  Liubotchka  is  in  love  with  him,  —  and  should  wish 
to  marry  her  .^  Then  one  of  us  would  not  be  able  to 
marry.i  And  that  would  be  capital.  Then  this  is  what 
I  should  do  :  I  should  immediately  perceive  it,  say 
nothing,  but  go  to  Dmitry  and  say,  *  It  is  in  vain,  my 
friend,  that  we  have  tried  to  keep  secrets  from  each 
other.  You  know  that  my  love  for  your  sister  will  end 
only  with  my  life  ;  but  I  know  all,  you  have  deprived 
me  of  my  best  hope,  you  have  rendered  me  unhappy ; 
but  do  you  know  how  Nikolai'  Irteneff  revenges  himself 
for  the  unhappiness  of  his  whole  life .''  Here  is  my 
sister  for  you,'  and  I  should  give  him  Liubotchka's  hand. 
He  would  say,  *  No,  not  on  any  terms ! '  and  I  should 
say,  '  Prince  Nekhliudoff,  in  vain  do  3'ou  endeavor  to  be 
more  magnanimous  than  Nikolai  Irteneff.  There  is  not 
a  more  magnanimous  man  in  the  world  than  he.'  Then 
I  should  bow  and  retire.  Dmitry  and  Liubotchka 
would  run  after  me  in  tears,  and  beseech  me  to  accept 
their  sacrifice,  —  and  I  might  consent  and  be  very 
happy  if  I  were  only  in  love  with  Varenka."  These 
dreams  were  so  agreeable  that  I  wanted  very  much  to 
communicate  them  to  my  friend  ;  but,  in  spite  of  our 
mutual  vow  of  frankness,  I  felt  that,  for  some  reason, 
it  was  physically  impossible  to  say  it. 

Dmitry  returned  from  Liubov  Sergieevna,  with  some 
drops  on  his  tooth  which  she  had  given  him,  in  still 
greater  suffering,  and  consequently  still  more  gloomy. 

^  According  to  the  ecclesiastical  law.  — Tr. 


300 


YOUTH 


My  bed  was  not  ready  yet ;  and  a  little  boy,  Dmitry's 
servant,  came  to  ask  where  I  was  to  sleep. 

"  Go  to  the  devil ! "  shouted  Dmitry,  stamping  his 
foot.  "  Vaska,  Vaska,  Vaska  !  "  he  cried,  as  soon  as  the 
boy  was  gone,  raising  his  voice  at  each  repetition,  — 
"Vaska,  make  me  up  a  bed  on  the  floor." 

"  No,  it  will  be  better  for  me  to  lie  on  the  floor," 
said  I. 

"Well,  it's  no  matter  ;  make  it  up  somewhere,"  went 
on  Dmitry,  in  the  same  angry  tone.  "Vaska!  why 
don't  you  spread  it  down  .■'  " 

But  Vaska  evidently  did  not  understand  what  was 
wanted  of  him,  and  stood  motionless. 

"  Well,  what 's  the  matter  with  you  .-*  Make  it !  make 
it !  Vaska,  Vaska  !  "  shouted  Dmitry,  suddenly  flying 
into  a  kind  of  fury. 

But  Vaska,  still  not  comprehending,  and  becoming 
frightened,  did  not  move. 

"So  you  have  sworn  to  mur....to  drive  me  mad .'' " 
and,  springing  from  his  chair,  Dmitry  flew  at  the  boy, 
and  struck  several  blows  with  his  fist  upon  the  head  of 
Vaska,  who  ran  headlong  from  the  room.  Halting  at 
the  door,  Dmitry  glanced  at  me  ;  and  the  expression  of 
rage  and  cruelty  which  his  face  had  borne  for  a  moment 
changed  into  such  a  gentle,  shamefaced,  and  affection- 
ately childish  expression,  that  I  was  sorry  for  him.  But, 
much  as  I  wanted  to  turn  away,  I  could  not  make  up  my 
mind  to  do  it.  He  said  nothing  to  me,  but  paced  the 
room  for  a  long  time,  glancing  at  me  from  time  to  time 
with  the  same  look  which  besought  forgiveness,  then 
took  a  note-book  from  the  table,  wrote  something  in  it, 
pulled  off  his  coat,  folded  it  carefully,  went  to  the  cor- 
ner where  the  images  hung,  crossed  his  large  white 
hands  upon  his  breast,  and  began  to  pray.  He  prayed 
so  long  that  Vaska  had  time  to  fetch  a  mattress,  and 
spread  it  on  the  floor  as  I  directed  him  in  a  whisper  to 
do.  I  undressed,  and  lay  down  upon  the  bed  thus  pre- 
pared on  the  floor ;  but  Dmitry  still  continued  to  pray. 
As  I  glanced  at  Dmitry's  somewhat  bent  back,  and  at 
the  soles  of  his  feet,  which  were  presented  to  me  in  a 


YOUTH  301 

rather  submissive  way  when  he  prostrated  himself  on 
the  earth,  I  loved  Dmitry  still  more  strongly  than 
before,  and  I  kept  thinking,  "  Shall  I  or  shall  I  not  tell 
him  what  I  have  been  dreaming  about  our  sisters  ? " 
Having  finished  his  prayer,  Dmitry  lay  down  beside  me 
on  the  bed  ;  and,  supporting  himself  on  his  elbow,  he 
looked  at  me  long  and  silently  with  a  steady,  affection- 
ate gaze.  It  was  evidently  painful  for  him,  but  he 
seemed  to  be  punishing  himself.  I  smiled  as  I  looked 
at  him.      He  smiled  also. 

"Why  don't  you  tell  me,"  said  he,  "that  I  have  acted 
abominably  ?     Of  course  you  thought  it  at  once." 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  —  although  I  had  been  thinking 
of  something  else,  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  really 
thought  it,  — "  yes,  it  was  not  nice  at  all ;  I  did  not 
expect  it  of  thee,"  said  I,  experiencing  a  special  satisfac- 
tion at  the  moment  in  addressing  him  as  t/wu.  "Well, 
how  are  thy  teeth  .''  "  I  added. 

"  The  pain  has  passed  off.  Ah,  Nikolenka,  my  friend," 
broke  out  Dmitry  so  affectionately  that  stars  seemed  to 
stand  in  his  sparkling  eyes,  "  I  know  and  feel  that  I  am 
wicked  ;  and  God  sees  how  I  desire  to  be  better,  and 
how  I  beseech  Him  to  make  me  better.  But  what  am  I 
to  do  if  I  have  such  a  wretched,  repulsive  character .'' 
what  am  I  to  do .-'  I  try  to  restrain  myself,  to  reform 
myself;  but  all  at  once  this  becomes  impossible,  and 
impossible  to  me  alone.  I  need  some  one  to  support,  to 
help  me.  There  is  Liubov  Sergieevna,  she  understands 
me,  and  has  helped  me  a  great  deal  in  this.  I  know  by 
my  journal  that  I  have  improved  a  great  deal  during  the 
last  year.  Ah,  Nikolenka,  my  soul !  "  he  continued, 
with  peculiar,  unaccustomed  tenderness,  and  a  tone  that 
was  already  quieter  after  this  confession,  "how  much 
the  influence  of  a  woman  like  her  means!  My  God! 
how  good  it  will  be  when  I  am  independent  with  such  a 
friend  as  she !     I  am  a  totally  different  man  with  her." 

And  then  Dmitry  began  to  unfold  to  me  his  plans  for 
marriage,  country  life,  and  constant  labor  upon  himself. 

"  I  shall  live  in  the  country.  You  will  come  to  me, 
perhaps  ;  and  you  will  be  married  to  Sonitchka,"  said 


302 


YOUTH 


*'<. 


he.  "  Our  children  will  play  together.  Of  course  this 
all  sounds  ridiculous  and  stupid,  but  it  may  come  to 
pass  nevertheless." 

"The  idea!  it  is  extremely  possible,"  said  I,  smiling, 
and  thinking  at  the  same  time  that  it  would  be  much 
better  still  if  I  were  married  to  his  sister. 

"I  am  going  to  tell  you  something,  do  you  know," 
said  he,  after  a  short  silence;  "you  are  only  imagining 
that  you  are  in  love  with  Sonitchka,  but  it 's  nonsense,  I 
can  see  it ;  and  you  do  not  yet  know  what  the  genuine 
feeling  is  like." 

I  made  no  reply,  because  I  almost  agreed  with  him. 
We  remained  silent  for  a  while. 

"  You  surely  must  have  observed  that  I  have  been  in 
an  abominable  temper  again  to-day,  and  quarreled  in  an 
ugly  way  with  Varya.  It  was  frightfully  disagreeable 
for  me  afterward,  especially  because  it  was  before  you. 
Although  she  thinks  of  many  things  in  a  way  she  should 
not,  she  's  a  splendid  girl,  and  very  good  when  you  come 
to  know  her  more  intimately." 

His  change  of  the  conversation,  from  the  statement 
that  I  was  not  in  love,  to  praises  of  his  sister,  rejoiced 
one  greatly,  and  made  me  blush  ;  nevertheless,  I  said 
nothing  to  him  about  his  sister,  and  we  went  on  talking 
of  something  else. 

Thus  we  chatted  away  until  the  second  cockcrow,  and 
until  the  pale  dawn  had  already  peeped  in  at  the  win- 
dow, and  Dmitry  went  to  his  own  bed,  and  extinguished 
the  Hght. 

"  Well,  now  for  sleep,"  said  he. 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  "but  one  word  more." 

"Well.?" 

"  Is  it  good  to  live  in  this  world  ?  " 

"  It  is  good  to  live  in  this  world,"  he  responded,  in 
such  a  voice,  that  it  seemed  to  me  that  even  in  the 
dark  I  could  see  the  expression  of  his  merry,  affec- 
tionate eyes  and  childlike  smile. 


YOUTH  303 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

IN    THE    COUNTRY 

The  next  day  Volodya  and  I  set  off  for  the  country, 
with  post-horses.  As  I  went  over  all  my  Moscow  mem- 
ories in  my  mind  on  the  way,  I  remembered  Sonitcbka 
Valakhin,  but  only  in  the  evening,  when  we  had  traveled 
five  stages.  "But  it  is  strange,"  thought  I,  "that  I  am 
in  love,  and  quite  forgot  it ;  I  must  think  of  her."  And 
I  did  begin  to  think  of  her,  as  one  thinks  while  travel- 
ing, incoherently  but  vividly  ;  and  I  meditated  to  such 
a  degree,  that  I  considered  it  indispensable,  for  some 
reason  or  other,  to  appear  sad  and  thoughtful  for  two 
days  after  our  arrival  in  the  country,  before  all  the 
household,  and  especially  in  the  presence  of  Katenka, 
whom  I  regarded  as  a  great  connoisseur  in  matters  of 
this  sort,  and  to  whom  I  gave  a  hint  of  the  condition  in 
which  I  found  my  heart.  But,  in  spite  of  all  my  at- 
tempts at  dissimulation  before  others  and  before  my- 
self, in  spite  of  my  deliberate  assumption  of  all  the 
signs  which  I  had  observed  in  others  in  an  enamoureii 
condition,  in  the  course  of  those  two  days  I  did  not 
constantly  bear  it  in  mind  that  I  was  in  love,  but  re- 
membered it  chiefly  in  the  evening ;  and  finally  I  fell 
into  the  new  round  of  country  life  and  occupations  so 
quickly  that  I  quite  forgot  about  my  love  for  Sonitchka. 

We  arrived  at  Petrovskoe  at  night ;  and  I  was  sleep- 
ing so  soundly  that  I  saw  neither  the  house  nor  the 
birch  avenue,  nor  any  of  the  household,  who  had  al- 
ready retired  and  had  long  been  asleep.  Old  bent 
Foka,  barefooted,  and  wrapped  in  a  kind  of  woman's 
wadded  dressing-gown,  with  a  candle  in  his  hand, 
shoved  back  the  door-fastenings  for  us.  He  quivered 
with  joy  on  beholding  us,  kissed  us  on  the  shoulder, 
hastily  gathered  up  his  felt  rug,  and  began  to  dress  him- 
self. I  traversed  the  vestibule  and  staircase  without 
being  thoroughly  awake  ;  but  in  the  anteroom  the  lock 
on  the  door,  the  bolt,  the  crooked  boards,  the  clothes- 


304 


YOUTH 


press,  the  ancient  candlestick  spotted  with  tallow  as  of 
old,  the  shadow  of  the  cold,  bent,  recently  lighted  wick 
of  the  tallow  candle,  the  always  dusty  double  window 
which  was  never  removed,  behind  which,  as  I  remem- 
bered, there  grew  a  mountain-ash  tree, — all  this  was  so 
familiar,  so  full  of  memories,  so  harmonious  with  itself, 
as  though  united  in  one  thought,  that  I  suddenly  felt 
upon  me  the  caress  of  this  dear  old  house.  The  ques- 
tion involuntarily  presented  itself  to  me,  "  How  could 
we,  the  house  and  I,  go  on  without  each  other  so  long?" 
and  I  ran  in  haste  to  see  whether  these  were  in  the 
same  rooms.  Everything  was  the  same,  only  every- 
thing had  grown  smaller,  lower.  But  the  house  re- 
ceived me  joyously  into  its  embrace  just  as  I  was;  and 
every  floor,  every  window,  every  step  of  the  stairs,  every 
sound,  awakened  in  me  a  world  of  forms,  feelings,  occur- 
rences of  the  happy  past,  which  would  never  return. 
We  went  to  the  bedroom  of  our  childhood ;  all  my 
childish  terrors  were  hiding  again  in  the  darkness  of 
the  corners  and  doors.  We  went  into  the  drawing-room; 
the  same  gentle  motherly  love  was  diffused  over  every 
object  which  was  in  the  room.  We  went  to  the  hall ; 
it  seemed  as  though  boisterous,  careless  childish  mirth 
had  lingered  in  this  apartment,  and  was  only  waiting  to 
be  revivified.  In  the  boudoir,  whither  Foka  led  us  and 
where  he  made  up  beds  for  us,  it  seemed  as  if  every- 
thing,—  the  mirror,  the  screen,  the  ancient  wooden 
image,  every  inequality  of  the  walls  covered  with  white 
paper,  —  all  spoke  of  suffering,  of  death,  of  that  which 
would  never  exist  again. 

We  went  to  bed,  and  Foka  left  us  after  wishing  us 
good-night. 

"  Mamma  died  in  this  room,  surely,"  said  Volodya. 

I  did  not  answer  him,  and  pretended  to  be  asleep.  If 
I  had  said  a  word  I  should  have  burst  out  crying.  When 
I  awoke  the  next  morning,  papa,  not  yet  dressed,  was 
sitting  on  Volodya's  bed,  in  fanciful  slippers  from 
Torzhok  and  dressing-gown,  chatting  and  laughing  with 
him.  He  sprang  up  from  Volodya  with  a  merry  bound, 
came  up  to  me,  and,  slapping  me  on  the  back  with  his 


YOUTH  305 

large  hand,  he  presented  his  cheek  to  me,  and  pressed  it 
to  my  lips. 

"  Well,  capital,  thanks,  diplomat,"  said  he,  with  his  own 
peculiar  jesting  caress,  gazing  at  me  with  his  small, 
twinkling  eyes.  "  Volodya  says  that  you  got  through 
well,  young  fellow  ;  that 's  glorious.  You  're  my  fine 
little  fellow  when  you  take  a  notion  not  to  be  stupid. 
Thanks,  my  friend.  We  shall  live  very  pleasantly  here 
now,  but  we  shall  go  to  Petersburg  for  the  winter ;  only 
it 's  a  pity  that  the  hunting  is  over,  for  I  might  have 
amused  you.  You  can  hunt  with  a  gun,  Waldemar ; 
there  's  any  quantity  of  game,  and  I  will  go  with  you 
myself  some  day.  So  if  it  be  God's  will,  we  shall  go 
to  Petersburg  for  the  winter  ;  you  shall  see  people,  make 
connections.  You  are  grown  up  now,  my  children,  and 
I  was  just  telling  Waldemar  that  you  now  stand  on  the 
road,  and  my  task  is  over ;  you  can  walk  alone.  But  if  you 
want  to  confer  with  me,  to  ask  advice,  I  am  no  longer 
your  daddy,  but  your  friend  and  comrade  and  counselor, 
wherever  I  can  be  of  use,  and  nothing  more.  How  does 
that  suit  your  philosophy,  Koko.^  Heh  ?  is  it  good  or 
bad  ?  heh  .?  " 

Of  course  I  answered  that  it  was  capital,  and  I  really 
thought  it  so.  Papa  had  a  perfectly  fascinating,  merry, 
happy  expression  that  day  ;  and  these  novel  relations 
with  me,  as  with  an  equal,  a  companion,  made  me  love 
him  more  than  ever. 

"  Now  tell  me,  did  you  call  on  all  our  relatives,  and  on 
the  Ivins  }  Did  you  see  the  old  man  ?  What  did  he 
say  to  you.''"  he  continued  to  interrogate  me.  "Did 
you  go  to  see  Prince  Ivan  Ivanitch  ? " 

And  we  chatted  so  long  before  dressing,  that  the  sun 
had  already  begun  to  desert  the  windows  of  the  divan- 
room  ;  and  Yakoff,  who  was  just  exactly  as  old  as  ever, 
and  twisted  his  fingers  behind  his  back  and  spoke  just 
the  same  as  ever,  came  to  our  room,  and  announced  to 
papa  that  the  calash  was  ready. 

"  Where  are  you  going  .-*  "  I  asked  papa. 

"Ah,  I  had  nearly  forgotten,"  said  papa,  with  a  twitch 
and  cough  of    vexation.      "  I    promised    to   go   to    the 


3o6  YOUTH 

Epifanoffs'  to-day  Do  you  remember  the  Epifanova, 
la  belle  Flamande  ?  She  used  to  visit  your  mamma. 
They  are  very  nice  people,"  and  papa  left  the  room, 
twitching  his  shoulders  in  embarrassment,  as  it  seemed 
to  me. 

Liubotchka  had  come  to  the  door  several  times  during 
our  chat,  and  inquired,  "  Can  I  come  in  ?  "  but  each  time 
papa  shouted  to  her  through  the  door  that  it  "  was 
utterly  impossible,  because  we  were  not  dressed." 

"  What 's  the  harm  }  I  've  seen  you  in  your  dressing- 
gown." 

"  It 's  impossible  for  you  to  see  your  brothers  without 
their  inexpressibles"  he  shouted  to  her;  "and  if  each 
one  of  them  knocks  on  the  door  to  you,  will  you  be  sat- 
isfied 1  Knock,  and  it  is  even  improper  for  them  to 
speak  to  you  in  such  neglige'." 

"  Ah,  how  unbearable  you  are  !  At  all  events,  do 
come  to  the  drawing-room  as  quickly  as  possible.  Mimi 
wants  so  much  to  see  you ! "  called  Liubotchka  outside 
the  door. 

As  soon  as  papa  went  away  I  dressed  myself  as 
quickly  as  possible  in  my  student's  coat,  and  went  to 
the  drawing-room.  Volodya,  on  the  contrary,  did  not 
hurry  himself,  and  sat  up-stairs  for  a  long  time,  talking 
with  Yakoff  about  the  places  to  find  snipe  and  wood- 
cock. As  I  have  already  said,  there  was  nothing  in  the 
world  which  he  dreaded  so  much  as  sentiment  with  his 
brother,  his  sister,  or  papa,  as  he  expressed  it ;  and,  in 
avoiding  every  expression  of  feeling,  he  fell  into  the 
other  extreme,  —  coldness,  —  which  often  hurt  the  feel- 
ings of  people  who  did  not  understand  its  cause.  In 
the  anteroom  I  met  papa,  who  was  on  his  way  to  the 
carriage  with  short,  brisk  steps.  He  bad  on  his  fashion- 
able new  Moscow  coat,  and  he  was  redolent  of  perfume. 
When  he  caught  sight  of  me,  he  nodded  gayly,  as  much 
as  to  say,  "You  see,  is  n't  it  fine  .-' "  and  again  I  was 
struck  by  the  happy  expression  of  his  eyes,  which  I  had 
already  observed  that  morning. 

The  drawing-room  was  the  same  bright,  lofty  apart- 
ment, with  the  yellowish  English  grand  piano,  and  its 


YOUTH 


307 


great  open  windows,  through  which  the  green  trees  and 
the  yellowish  red  paths  of  the  garden  peeped  gayly. 
Having  kissed  Mimi  and  Liubotchka,  it  suddenly 
occurred  to  me,  as  I  approached  Katenka,  that  it  was 
not  proper  to  kiss  her  ;  and  I  came  to  a  standstill,  silent 
and  blushing.  Katenka,  who  was  not  at  all  embarrassed, 
offered  me  her  white  hand,  and  congratulated  me  on 
my  entrance  to  the  university.  When  Volodya  entered 
the  room,  the  same  thing  happened  to  him  at  the  sight 
of  Katenka.  In  fact,  it  was  hard  to  decide,  after  hav- 
ing grown  up  together,  and  having  been  in  the  habit  of 
seeing  each  other  every  day  during  all  that  time,  how 
we  ought  to  meet  now,  after  our  first  separation.  Katenka 
blushed  far  more  deeply  than  all  the  rest  of  us.  Volodya 
suffered  no  embarrassment,  but,  bowing  slightly  to  her, 
he  walked  off  to  Liubotchka,  with  whom  he  talked  a 
little,  but  not  seriously ;  then  he  went  off  somewhere 
for  a  solitary  walk. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

OUR    RELATIONS    TO    THE    GIRLS 

Volodya  had  such  queer  views  about  the  girls,  that 
he  could  interest  himself  in  the  questions:  were  they 
fat .''  had  they  slept  enough  ?  were  they  properly 
dressed  ?  did  they  make  mistakes  in  French  which  he 
should  be  ashamed  of  before  strangers  .''  But  he  never 
admitted  the  idea  that  they  could  think  or  feel  anything 
human,  and  still  less  did  he  admit  the  idea  that  it  was 
possible  to  discuss  anything  with  them.  When  they 
chanced  to  have  occasion  to  appeal  to  him  with  any 
serious  question  (which,  however,  they  already  en- 
deavored to  avoid),  if  they  asked  his  opinion  about  a 
novel  or  his  occupations  in  the  university,  he  made  a 
face  at  them,  and  walked  off  in  silence,  or  answered 
with  some  mutilated  French  phrase,  such  as  comme  ci 
trijoli^  and   the   like;  or,  putting   on   a   serious    and 

1  Comme  c'est  tres  joli. 


3o8  YOUTH 

thoughtfully  stupid  face,  he  uttered  some  word  which 
had  no  sense  or  connection  at  all  with  the  question, 
made  his  eyes  dull  all  at  once,  and  said,  a  roll,  oc  they 
have  go Jte  away,  or  cabbage,  or  something  of  that  sort. 
When  I  chanced  to  repeat  to  him  these  words  which  Liu- 
botchka  or  Katenka  had  reported  to  me,  he  always  said  : 

"  Hm  !  so  you  still  discuss  matters  with  them  ?  Yes, 
I  see  you  are  still  in  a  bad  way." 

And  the  profound,  invariable  contempt  which  was 
expressed  in  this  phrase  required  to  be  heard  in  order 
to  be  appreciated.  Volodya  had  been  grown  up  for  two 
years  now  ;  he  was  constantly  falling  in  love  with  every 
pretty  woman  that  he  met :  but,  although  he  saw  Katenka 
every  day  (she  had  worn  long  dresses  for  two  years,  and 
grew  prettier  every  day),  the  idea  of  the  possibility  of 
falling  in  love  with  her  never  entered  his  head.  Whether 
this  arose  from  the  prosaic  recollections  of  childhood, 

—  the  ruler,  her  simplicity,  her  caprices,  were  still  too 
fresh  in  his  memory ;  or  from  the  repugnance  which 
very  young  people  have  for  everything  that  belongs  to 
their  own  house  ;  or  from  the  general  human  weakness 
which,  on  meeting  a  good  or  a  very  beautiful  thing  at 
the  beginning  of  the  road,  passes  by,  saying  to  itself, 
"  Eh  !  I  shall  meet  many  such  in  the  course  of  my  life," 

—  at  all  events,  up  to  this  time  Volodya  had  not  looked 
upon  Katenka  as  a  woman. 

Volodya  was  evidently  very  much  bored  all  that  sum- 
mer. His  ennui  proceeded  from  his  scorn  for  us,  which, 
as  I  have  said,  he  did  not  attempt  to  hide.  The  expres- 
sion of  his  face  said  constantly,  "  Fu  !  how  tiresome ! 
and  there's  nobody  to  talk  to."  Perhaps  he  would  set 
out  on  a  hunt  in  the  morning  with  his  gun,  or  would 
read  a  book  in  his  room,  without  dressing  himself,  until 
dinner.  If  papa  was  not  at  home,  he  even  brought  his 
book  to  the  dinner-table,  and  went  on  reading,  without 
exchanging  a  syllable  with  any  of  us,  which  made  us 
feel  guilty  of  something  or  other  toward  him.  In  the 
evening,  too,  he  lay  with  his  feet  on  the  sofa  in  the 
drawing-room,  and  slept  with  his  head  resting  on  his 
hand,  or,  with   a   serious  face,  chattered  the  strangest 


YOUTH  309 

nonsense,  that  was  at  times  even  improper,  which  made 
Mimi  grow  angry,  and  turn  red  in  spots,  while  we  were 
dying  with  laughter  ;  but  he  never  condescended  to  talk 
seriously  with  any  member  of  our  family  except  papa, 
and,  once  in  a  while,  with  me.  I  quite  involuntarily 
aped  my  brother  in  his  views  about  the  girls,  although 
I  was  not  so  much  afraid  of  sentiment  as  he  was,  and 
my  contempt  for  the  girls  was  far  from  being  so  deep 
and  firmly  rooted.  I  even  made  several  attempts  that 
summer,  out  of  enmii,  to  enter  into  closer  relations  with 
Liubotchka  and  Katenka,  and  converse  with  them  ;  but 
on  every  occasion  I  found  such  an  absence  of  the  capac- 
ity for  logical  thought,  and  such  ignorance  of  the  sim- 
plest, most  ordinary  things,  such  as,  for  example,  what 
money  was,  what  was  taught  in  the  university,  what 
war  is,  and  so  on^^  and  such  indifference  to  the  explana- 
tions of  all  these  things,  that  these  attempts  only  served 
to  confirm  me  in  my  unfavorable  opinion  of  them. 

I  remember  how,  one  evening,  Liubotchka  was  re- 
peating some  intolerably  tiresome  passage  for  the  hun- 
dredth time  on  the  piano.  Volodya  was  lying  dozing  on 
the  sofa  in  the  drawing-room,  and  muttering  at  intervals 
with  a  certain  malicious  irony,  but  without  addressing 
himself  to  any  one  in  particular,  "  Ai !  there  she  pounds 
away  ;  she's  a  musician,  a  BectJioven\\.\{\s  name  he  ut- 
tered with  special  irony],  that 's  clever,  now  once  more, 
that 's  it,"  and  so  on.  Katenka  and  I  were  still  at  the 
tea-table,  and  I  do  not  remember  how  Katenka  led  the 
conversation  to  her  favorite  topic, — love.  I  was  in  a 
mood  to  philosophize,  and  I  began  in  a  lofty  way  to 
define  love  as  the  desire  to  acquire  in  another  that 
which  you  had  not  yourself,  and  so  forth.  But  Katenka 
retorted  that,  on  the  contrary,  it  was  not  love,  if  a  girl 
contemplated  marrying  a  rich  man,  and  that,  in  her 
opinion,  property  was  the  most  worthless  of  all  things, 
but  that  the  only  true  love  was  that  which  can  endure 
separation  (I  understood  by  this  that  she  was  hinting 
at  her  love  for  Dubkoff).  Volodya,  who  must  have  over- 
heard our  conversation,  raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  and 
cried  interrogatively,  "  Kamenka,  Riisskikh  ?  " 


3IO 


YOUTH 


"Oh,  your  eternal  nonsense  !  "  said  Katenka. 

'*  V pereschnitzuV^  went  on  Volodya,  emphasizing 
each  vowel.  And  I  could  not  but  think  that  Volodya 
was  quite  right. 

Entirely  separate  from  the  general  qualities  of  intelli- 
gence, sensibility,  and  artistic  feeling,  there  is  a  private 
quality  which  is  more  or  less  developed  in  various  cir- 
cles of  society,  and  especially  in  families,  which  I  call 
tmderstaiiding.  The  essential  point  of  this  quality  con- 
sists in  a  certain  feeling  of  proportion  which  has  been 
agreed  upon,  and  in  an  accepted,  one-sided  view  of  sub- 
jects. Two  men  of  the  same  circle,  or  of  the  same  fam- 
ily, who  possess  this  quality,  can  always  allow  their 
expression  of  feeling  to  reach  a  certain  point,  beyond 
which  both  of  them  foresee  the  phrase.  At  one  and 
the  same  moment  they  perceive  where  praise  ends  and 
irony  begins,  where  enthusiasm  ends  and  dissimulation 
begins  ;  while,  with  people  of  another  understanding,  it 
may  appear  quite  otherwise.  For  people  with  one  un- 
derstanding every  object  which  they  have  in  common 
presents  itself  equally  and  chiefly  through  its  ridiculous, 
its  beautiful,  or  its  foul  side.  In  order  to  render  more 
easy  this  identity  of  comprehension,  there  arises,  among 
people  of  a  certain  circle  or  family,  a  tongue  of  its  own, 
certain  terms  of  speech,  certain  words  even,  which  de- 
note those  shades  of  meaning  that  do  not  exist  for  other 
people.  In  our  family,  this  understanding  was  devel- 
oped to  the  highest  degree  between  papa  and  us  two 
brothers.  Dubkoff  also  had  fitted  our  little  circle  pretty  , 
well,  and  understood ;  but  Dmitry,  although  much  clev- 
erer than  he,  was  stupid  on  this  point.  But  in  no  case 
was  this  faculty  developed  to  such  a  pitch  of  refinement 
as  between  Volodya  and  myself,  who  had  grown  up 
under  identical  conditions.  Papa  was  already  far  be- 
hind us,  and  much  that  was  as  clear  to  us  as  two  times 
two  was  incomprehensible  to  him.  For  instance,  Vo- 
lodya and  I  had  agreed,  God  knows  why,  upon  the  fol- 

1  As  will  be  seen  from  what  follows,  these  words  are  nonsense,  and  make 
as  much  sense  untranslated  as  they  would  if  an  arbitrary  meaning  were  as- 
signed to  them.  —  Tr. 


YOUTH 


311 


lowing  words  with  corresponding  meanings :  Raisins 
signified  a  vainglorious  desire  to  show  that  I  had 
money  ;  a  binnp  (the  fingers  must  be  joined,  and  the 
special  emphasis  placed  on  two  of  the  consonants  at  the 
same  time)  signified  something  fresh,  healthy,  elegant, 
but  not  foppish ;  a  noun  employed  in  the  plural  signified 
unreasonable  passion  for  the  object ;  and  so  forth,  and 
so  forth.  Moreover,  the  meaning  depended  on  the  ex- 
pression of  countenance,  on  the  conversation  as  a  whole  ; 
so  that,  whatever  new  expression  one  of  us  invented  for 
a  new  shade  of  meaning,  the  other  understood  it  exactly 
in  that  sense  at  the  first  hint.  The  girls  did  not  have 
our  understanding,  and  this  was  the  chief  cause  of  our 
moral  solitude,  and  of  the  scorn  which  we  felt  for  them. 
Perhaps  they  had  an  understanding  of  their  own  ;  but 
it  was  so  unlike  ours,  that,  where  we  beheld  a  phrase, 
they  saw  a  sentiment ;  our  irony  was  truth  to  them,  and 
so  forth.  But  I  did  not  understand  at  the  time  that 
they  were  not  to  blame  in  this  respect,  and  that  this  lack 
of  comprehension  did  not  prevent  them  from  being  very 
good  and  clever  girls  ;  but  I  despised  them.  Having, 
moreover,  hit  upon  the  idea  of  frankness,  and  carrying 
the  application  of  it  to  extremes  in  my  own  case,  I  ac- 
cused Liubotchka,  with  her  peaceful,  trusting  nature,  of 
secrecy,  because  she  saw  no  necessity  for  digging  up 
and  examining  all  her  thoughts  and  spiritual  instincts. 
For  example,  it  seemed  to  me  all  excessive  hypocrisy 
when  Liubotchka  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  over  papa 
every  night,  and  when  she  and  Katenka  wept  in  the 
chapel  when  they  went  to  have  the  requiem  service  ^  for 
mamma's  soul,  and  when  Katenka  sighed  and  rolled  her 
eyes  when  she  played  on  the  piano  ;  and  I  asked  my- 
self, When  did  they  learn  to  dissimulate  thus  like 
grown-up  people,  and  why  were  they  not  ashamed  of 
themselves } 

i  Not  the  liturgy  (or  mass),  but  a  service  of  prayer  only.  — Tr. 


3ia  YOUTH 


CHAPTER  XXX 

MY    OCCUPATIONS 

In  spite  of  this,  I  came  into  nearer  relations  with  our 
young  ladies  that  summer  than  in  other  years,  by  reason 
of  a  passion  for  music  which  had  made  its  appearance 
in  me.  That  spring,  a  young  man,  a  neighbor,  came  to 
call  upon  us  in  the  country,  who  had  no  sooner  entered 
the  drawing-room  than  he  began  to  gaze  at  the  piano, 
and  to  move  his  chair  imperceptibly  toward  it  as  he 
conversed,  among  others,  with  Mimi  and  Katenka. 
Having  discussed  the  weather,  and  the  pleasures  of 
country  life,  he  skilfully  led  the  conversation  to  a  tuner, 
to  music,  to  the  piano,  and  finally  he  announced  that  he 
played ;  and  very  soon  he  had  executed  three  waltzes, 
while  Liubotchka,  Mimi,  and  Katenka  stood  around  the 
piano  and  looked  at  him.  This  young  man  never  came 
again  ;  but  his  playing  pleased  me  extremely,  and  his 
attitude  at  the  piano,  and  the  way  he  shook  his  hair,  and, 
in  particular,  the  manner  in  which  he  took  octaves  with 
his  left  hand,  swiftly  extending  his  thumb  and  little  fin- 
ger over  the  space  of  the  octave,  then  slowly  drawing 
them  away,  and  again  briskly  extending  them.  This 
graceful  gesture,  his  careless  pose,  the  way  he  tossed  his 
hair,  and  the  attention  which  our  ladies  paid  to  his 
talent,  inspired  me  with  the  idea  of  playing  on  the 
piano.  Having  convinced  myself,  in  consequence  of 
this  idea,  that  I  had  talent  and  a  passion  for  music,  I 
undertook  to  learn.  In  this  respect,  I  behaved  like  mill- 
ions of  the  male  and  especially  of  the  female  sex,  who 
study  without  a  good  teacher,  without  a  real  vocation, 
and  without  the  slightest  comprehension  of  what  art  can 
give,  and  of  how  necessary  it  is  to  apply  to  it  in  order 
that  it  may  furnish  something.  Music,  or  rather  playing 
on  the  piano,  was  for  me  a  means  of  captivating  girls 
through  their  feelings.  With  the  help  of  Katenka,  who 
taught  me  my  notes  and  broke  my  thick  fingers  in  a 
little,  in  which  process,  by  the  way,  I  consumed  two 


YOUTH  313 

months  of  such  zeal  that  I  even  exercised  my  disobedi- 
ent fourth  finger  on  my  knee  at  dinner  and  on  my  pillow 
in  bed,  I  at  once  began  to  ^\^.y  pieces,  and  played  them, 
of  course,  soulfully  {avec  dine),  as  even  Katenka  con- 
fessed, but  utterly  out  of  time. 

The  choice  of  pieces  was  familiar,  —  waltzes,  galops 
romances,  arrangements,  and  so  forth, — all  by  those 
pleasing  composers  of  which  any  man  possessed  of  a 
little  healthy  taste  will  select  a  little  pile  for  you  from 
the  heaps  of  very  beautiful  things  in  the  music  shops, 
and  say,  "  These  are  what  you  must  not  play,  because 
nothing  worse,  more  tasteless,  and  more  senseless  was 
ever  written  on  music  paper  ;  "  and  which  you  find  upon 
the  pianoforte  of  every  young  Russian  lady,  probably 
for  that  very  reason.  We  had,  it  is  true,  the  unhappy 
"  Sonate  Pathetique,"  and  Beethoven's  sonatas  in 
C-minor,  which  are  forever  being  murdered  by  young 
ladies,  and  which  Liubotchka  played  in  memory  of 
mamma,  and  other  fine  things,  which  her  Moscow 
teacher  had  given  her ;  but  there  were  also  composi- 
tions by  this  teacher,  absurd  marches  and  galops,  which 
Liubotchka  played  as  well.  Katenka  and  I  did  not  like 
serious  things,  and  preferred,  to  everything  else,  "  Le 
Fou  "  and  the  "Nightingale,"  which  Katenka  played  in 
such  a  manner  that  her  fingers  were  not  visible,  and  I 
already  began  to  play  quite  loudly  and  connectedly.  I 
acquired  the  young  man's  gestures,  and  often  mourned 
because  there  were  no  strangers  to  look  on  when  I  was 
playing.  But  Liszt  and  Kalkbrenner  soon  proved  be- 
yond my  powers,  and  I  perceived  the  impossibility  of 
overtaking  Katenka.  Fancying,  in  consequence  of  this, 
that  classical  music  was  easier,  and  partly  foj  the  sake 
of  originality,  I  all  at  once  came  to  the  conclusion  that  I 
liked  learned  German  music,  began  to  go  into  raptures 
when  Liubotchka  played  the  "Sonate  Pathetique,"  al- 
though, to  tell  the  truth,  this  sonata  had  long  ago  excited 
my  extreme  disgust.  I  began  to  play  Beethoven  myself, 
and  to  pronounce  it  Beeethoven.  But  through  all  this 
muddle  and  hypocrisy,  as  I  now  recall,  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  nature  of  talent  in  me,  for  music  often  pro- 


314 


YOUTH 


duced  on  me  an  effect  sufficiently  powerful  to  call  forth 
tears,  and  the  things  which  pleased  me  I  could  manage 
to  pick  out  upon  the  piano  without  notes  ;  so  that,  if  any- 
one had  then  taught  me  to  look  upon  music  as  an  end, 
as  an  independent  enjoyment,  and  not  as  a  means  of 
fascinating  girls  by  the  swiftness  and  sentiment  of  my 
execution,  I  might,  perhaps,  have  actually  become  a  very 
respectable  musician. 

The  perusal  of  French  romances,  of  which  Volodya 
had  brought  down  a  great  many,  was  another  of  my 
occupations  during  this  summer.  At  that  time  "Monte 
Cristo"  and  various  "Mysteries"  had  just  begun  to 
make  their  appearance ;  and  I  buried  myself  in  the 
romances  of  Sue,  Dumas,  and  Paul  de  Kock.  All  the 
most  unnatural  personages  and  occurrences  were  as  liv- 
ing for  me  as  reality;  and  I  not  only  did  not  dare  to 
suspect  the  author  of  lying,  but  the  author  himself  did 
not  even  exist  for  me,  but  living,  acting  people  and 
adventures  appeared  before  me  out  of  the  printed  book. 
If  I  had  never  anywhere  met  people  like  those  I  read 
about,  still  I  did  not  for  a  second  doubt  their  existence. 

I  discovered  in  myself  all  the  passions  which  were 
described,  and  a  likeness  to  all  the  characters,  and  to 
the  heroes  and  the  villains  of  every  romance,  as  a  sensi- 
tive man  finds  in  himself  all  the  symptoms  of  all  pos- 
sible diseases  when  he  reads  a  medical  book.  What 
pleased  me  in  these  romances  was  the  artful  thoughts 
and  fiery  sentiments,  the  genuine  characters  :  the  good 
man  was  thoroughly  good,  the  bad  man  was  as 
thoroughly  bad,  exactly  as  I  fancied  people  were  in 
my  early  youth.  It  pleased  me  very,  very  much  that 
this  was  all  in  French,  and  that  I  could  remember  and 
quote,  on  the  occasion  of  a  noble  deed,  the  magnani- 
mous words  uttered  by  the  noble  heroes.  How  many 
different  French  phrases  I  concocted,  with  the  aid  of 
those  romances,  for  Kolpikoff  if  I  should  ever  encounter 
him  again,  and  for  her,  when  I  should  at  length  meet 
her  and  declare  my  love  to  her !  I  prepared  such 
things  to  say  to  them,  that  they  would  have  died  on 
hearing  me.     On  the  foundation  of  these  novels  I  even 


YOUTH  315 

constructed  new  ideals  of  the  moral  worth  to  which  I 
wished  to  attain.  Most  of  all,  I  desired  to  be  "noble" 
in  all  my  deeds  and  behavior  (I  say  noble,  and  not 
blagorodmdi,  because  the  French  word  has  another 
meaning,  which  the  Germans  understood  when  they 
adopted  the  word  nobel}  and  did  not  confound  it  with 
eJirlicJi);  next  to  be  passionate ;  and  lastly  to  be  what  I 
already  had  an  inclination  to  be,  diS  conime  ilfautdiS  pos- 
sible. I  even  endeavored  to  resemble,  in  my  personal 
appearance  and  habits,  the  heroes  who  possessed  any 
of  these  qualities.  I  remember  that  in  one,  out  of  the 
hundreds  of  novels  which  I  read  that  summer,  there 
was  an  excessively  passionate  hero,  with  thick  eyebrows  ; 
and  I  so  much  desired  to  be  like  him  externally  (I  felt 
myself  to  be  exactly  like  him  morally),  that,  as  I  ex- 
amined my  eyebrows  in  the  mirror,  it  occurred  to  me 
to  cut  them  a  little,  in  order  that  they  might  grow 
thicker ;  but  when  I  began  to  cut  them  I  chanced  to 
shear  away  more  in  one  place.  I  had  to  trim  it  down 
evenly ;  and  when  that  was  accomplished  I  looked  in 
the  glass,  and  beheld  myself,  to  my  horror,  without  any 
eyebrows,  and  consequently  very  ugly  indeed.  How- 
ever, I  took  comfort  in  the  hope  that  my  brows  would 
soon  grow  out  thick,  like  the  passionate  man's,  and  was 
only  disturbed  as  to  what  our  family  would  say  when 
they  should  see  me  without  my  eyebrows.  I  got  some 
powder  from  Volodya,  rubbed  it  on  my  eyebrows,  and 
set  fire  to  it.  Although  the  powder  did  not  flash  up,  I 
was  sufficiently  like  a  person  who  had  been  burned. 
No  one  suspected  my  trick,  and  my  brows  really  did 
grow  out  much  thicker  after  I  had  already  forgotten  the 
passionate  man. 

1  Nobel  means  noble,  generous.     Ehrlich  signifies   honest,  honorable^ 
faithful,  and  so  forth.  —  Tr. 


3i6  YOUTH 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

COMME    IL    FAUT 

Several  times  already,  in  the  course  of  this  narrative, 
I  have  referred  to  the  idea  corresponding  to  this  French 
heading ;  and  now  I  feel  the  necessity  of  devoting  a 
whole  chapter  to  this  idea,  which  was  one  of  the  most 
false  and  pernicious  with  which  I  was  inoculated  by 
education  and  society. 

The  human  race  may  be  separated  into  many  classes, 
—  into  rich  and  poor,  good  and  bad,  soldiers  and  civil- 
ians, into  clever  people  and  stupid,  and  so  on.  But 
every  man,  without  exception,  has  his  own  favorite  prin- 
cipal subdivisions  under  which  he  mechanically  classes 
each  new  individual.  My  chief  and  favorite  subdivision 
of  people,  at  the  time  of  which  I  write,  was  into  people 
who  were  comnie  il  faiit,  and  people  who  were  comme  il 
ne  faut  pas.  The  second  class  was  again  subdivided 
into  people  who  were  simply  not  comme  il  faiit,  and  the 
common  people.  People  who  were  comme  il  faiU  I  con- 
sidered worthy  of  holding  equal  intercourse  with  me ; 
as  for  the  second  class,  I  pretended  to  despise  them,  but 
in  reality  I  hated  them,  and  cherished  toward  them  a 
certain  sense  of  personal  injury;  the  third  did  not  exist 
for  me  —  I  scorned  them  utterly.  My  comme  il  faut 
consisted  first  and  chiefly  in  an  excellent  knowledge  of 
the  French  tongue,  and  a  good  pronunciation  in  particu- 
lar. A  man  who  did  not  pronounce  French  well  instantly 
awakened  a  feeling  of  hatred  in  me.  "Why  do  you 
want  to  talk  like  us,  when  you  don't  know  how } "  I 
asked  him  mentally,  with  biting  irony.  The  second 
condition  of  comme  il  faut  was  long,  clean,  polished 
finger-nails  ;  a  third  was  a  knowledge  of  how  to  bow, 
dance,  and  converse ;  a  fourth,  and  very  important  one, 
was  indifference  to  everything,  and  the  constant  ex- 
pression of  a  certain  elegant,  scornful  enmii.  Besides 
these,  I  had  general  indications,  by  means  of  which  I 
decided,  without  having  spoken  to  a  man,  to  which  class 


YOUTH  317 

he  belonged.  The  chief  of  these,  besides  the  arrange- 
ment of  his  room,  his  seal,  his  handwriting,  and  his 
equipage,  was  his  feet.  The  relations  of  his  boots  to 
his  trousers  immediately  settled  the  status  of  the  man 
in  my  eyes.  Boots  without  heels,  with  pointed  toes,  and 
trousers  with  narrow  bottoms,  and  without  straps,  — 
this  was  common;  boots  with  round,  narrow  toes  and 
heels,  and  trousers  narrow  below  with  straps  surround- 
ing the  feet,  or  wide  with  straps  and  arched  over  the 
toes  like  canopies,  — this  was  a  man  of  mauvais  genre  ; 
and  so  on. 

It  is  strange  that  this  idea  should  have  so  deeply 
inoculated  me,  who  was  decidedly  disqualified  to  be 
commc  il fant.  But  perhaps  the  very  reason  that  it  took 
such  deep  root  in  me  was  because  it  cost  me  vast  labor 
to  acquire  this  comme  il faut.  It  is  fearful  to  recall  how 
much  of  my  priceless  time  at  the  best  period  of  life, 
sixteen,  I  wasted  in  the  acquirement  of  this  quality.  It 
all  seemed  to  come  easily  to  all  those  whom  I  imitated, 
—  Volodya,  Dubkoff,  and  the  greater  part  of  my  ac- 
quaintances. I  gazed  at  them  with  envy,  and  labored 
secretly  at  the  French  tongue,  at  the  art  of  bowing, 
without  regard  to  the  person  I  bowed  to,  at  conversa- 
tion, at  dancing,  at  cultivating  indifference  and  ennui, 
at  my  finger-nails,  —  where  I  cut  my  flesh  with  the 
scissors, — and  all  the  while  I  felt  that  much  labor  yet 
remained  before  I  should  attain  my  object.  But  as  for 
my  room,  my  writing-table,  my  equipage  —  all  these  I 
did  not  in  the  least  know  how  to  arrange  in  such  a 
manner  that  they  should  be  comme  il  faut,  although  I 
strove  to  attend  to  it,  in  spite  of  my  repugnance  to 
practical  matters.  But  it  seemed  as  though  these  troubles 
all  settled  themselves  excellently  with  every  one  else, 
and  as  though  they  could  not  be  otherwise.  I  remem- 
ber, once,  after  arduous  and  fruitless  labor  over  my 
nails,  asking  Dubkoff,  whose  nails  were  wonderfully  fine, 
whether  they  had  been  so  long  and  how  he  managed  it. 
Dubkoff  replied,  "  I  have  never  done  anything,  as  far 
back  as  I  can  remember,  to  make  them  so,  and  I  don't 
understand  how  any  nice  man  can  have  any  other  kind 


3i8  YOUTH 

of  nails."  This  answer  wounded  me  deeply.  I  did  not 
then  know  that  one  of  the  chief  conditions  of  being 
comme  ilfcmt  is  secrecy  with  regard  to  the  labors  with 
which  that  cotmne  il  faiit  is  obtained.  Comme  il  faut 
was  not  only  a  great  merit,  in  my  opinion,  a  very  fine 
quality,  a  perfection  which  I  desired  to  attain,  but  it 
was  the  indispensable  condition  in  life,  without  which 
there  could  be  neither  happiness,  nor  glory,  nor  any- 
thing good  in  the  world.  I  should  not  have  respected  a 
renowned  artist,  nor  a  savant,  nor  a  benefactor  of  the 
human  race,  if  he  had  not  been  comme  il  faut.  The 
man  who  was  comme  il  faut  stood  incomparably  higher 
than  they ;  he  allowed  them  the  liberty  of  painting 
pictures,  writing  music  and  books,  of  doing  good  ;  he 
even  praised  them  for  so  doing,  for  why  should  not  good 
be  praised,  in  whatever  it  consisted .-'  but  he  could  not 
stand  on  one  level  with  them:  he  v^-^-s,  comme  il  faut, 
and  they  were  not,  and  that  was  enough.  It  even  seems 
to  me  that  if  we  had  had  a  brother,  a  mother,  or  a 
father  who  was  not  comme  il  faut,  I  should  have  said  it 
was  a  misfortune,  but. that  there  could  be  nothing  in 
common  between  them  and  me.  But  neither  the  loss 
of  golden  time,  employed  in  constant  worry  over  the 
observation  of  all  the  conditions  of  comme  il  faut  which 
were  so  difficult  for  me,  which  excluded  every  serious 
interest,  nor  the  hatred  and  contempt  for  nine-tenths  of 
the  human  race,  nor  the  lack  of  attention  to  all  the  fine 
deeds  which  took  place  outside  the  circle  of  the  comme 
ilfaut,  —  this  was  not  the  chief  harm  which  this  idea 
did  me.  The  chief  harm  consisted  in  the  conviction 
that  comme  ilfaut  is  a  fixed  position  in  society ;  that  a 
man  need  not  exert  himself  to  become  either  an  official 
or  a  cartwright,  a  soldier  or  a  savant,  if  he  is  comme  il 
faut ;  that,  having  once  attained  this  state,  he  has  ful- 
filled his  vocation,  and  has  even  placed  himself  above 
the  level  of  the  majority  of  mankind. 

At  a  certain  period  of  youth,  after  many  blunders  and 
distractions,  every  man,  as  a  rule,  feels  the  necessity  of 
taking  an  active  part  in  social  life,  selects  some  branch 
of  industry,  and  devotes  himself  to  it ;  but  this  rarely 


YOUTH  319 

happens  with  a  man  comjne  il  faiit.  I  have  known,  and 
I  still  know,  many,  very  many  old  people  who  are  proud, 
self-confident,  sharp  in  their  judgments,  who,  if  the 
question  were  put  to  them  in  the  other  world,  "  Who 
are  you  ?  What  have  you  done  there  below  ? "  would 
not  be  able  to  return  any  other  answer  than,  ^^Jefiis  tin 
honinic  tres  comme  il faiit  "  (I  was  a  thoroughly  genteel 
man). 

This  fate  awaited  me. 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

YOUTH 

Notwithstanding  the  jumble  of  ideas  which  passed 
through  my  brain,  I  was  young  that  summer,  innocent, 
free,  and  therefore  almost  happy. 

Sometimes,  and  tolerably  often  too,  I  rose  early.  (I 
slept  in  the  open  air  on  the  terrace,  and  the  brilliant, 
oblique  rays  of  the  morning  sun  awakened  me.)  I 
dressed  myself  rapidly,  took  a  towel  and  a  volume  of 
French  romance  under  my  arm,  and  went  for  a  bath  in 
the  river,  under  the  shadow  of  a  birch  grove  which  was 
half  a  verst  distant  from  the  house.  Then  I  stretched 
myself  out  upon  the  grass  in  the  shade  and  read,  raising 
my  eyes  now  and  then  from  my  book  to  glance  at  the 
surface  of  the  river,  which  purpled  in  the  shadows  as  it 
began  to  undulate  beneath  the  morning  breeze ;  at  the 
field  of  yellowing  grain  ;  at  the  opposite  shore  ;  at  the 
bright  red  morning  rays  of  light,  that  tinged  lower  and 
ever  lower  the  trunks  of  the  beeches,  which,  hiding  one 
behind  the  other,  retreated  from  me  toward  the  fresh 
depths  of  the  wood  :  and  I  enjoyed  the  consciousness 
of  the  same  fresh  young  force  of  life  within  myself 
which  breathed  forth  from  nature  all  about  me.  When 
tiny  gray  morning  clouds  filled  the  heavens,  and  I  shiv- 
ered after  my  bath,  I  often  set  out  on  a  pathless  tramp 
across  forest  and  meadow,  wetting  my  boots  through 
and  through  with   delight   in  the  fresh  dew.     At  that 


320 


YOUTH 


time,  I  indulged  in  vivid  dreams  of  heroes  from  the  last 
romance  I  had  read,  and  fancied  myself  now  a  colonel, 
now  a  Minister,  then  a  wonderfully  strong  man,  then  a 
man  of  passions  ;  and  I  kept  glancing  round  incessantly, 
in  some  trepidation,  in  the  hope  of  suddenly  meeting 
her  somewhere  in  some  meadow,  or  behind  some  tree. 
When,  in  the  course  of  such  wanderings,  I  came  across 
peasants  or  peasant  women  at  work,  although  the  com- 
mo7i  people  did  not  exist  for  me,  I  always  experienced  a 
powerful,  involuntary  emotion,  and  tried  not  to  let  them 
see  me.  When  it  had  begun  to  be  hot,  but  our  ladies 
had  not  yet  made  their  appearance  for  tea,  I  often  went 
into  the  orchard  or  the  garden,  to  eat  whatever  vegetables 
and  fruits  were  ripe.  And  this  occupation  furnished  me 
with  one  of  my  chief  pleasures.  In  the  apple  orchard, 
perhaps  you  have  crept  into  the  very  midst  of  a  tall, 
thick,  overgrown,  raspberry  bush.  Overhead  is  the  hot, 
clear  sky ;  all  around  is  the  pale  green,  thorny  verdure 
of  the  raspberry  bush,  mingled  with  weeds.  The  dark 
green  nettle,  with  its  thin,  flowery  crest,  stretches  grace- 
fully upward  ;  the  claw-like  burdock,  with  its  unnaturally 
purple,  prickly  flowers,  grows  rankly  above  the  raspberry 
bush  and  higher  than  your  head,  and  here  and  there,  in 
company  with  the  nettle,  reaches  even  to  the  luxuriantly 
drooping,  pale  green  boughs  of  the  old  apple  tree,  high 
up  upon  which,  staring  at  the  hot  sun,  apples,  round, 
shining  as  though  made  of  bone,  but  still  immature,  are 
ripening.  Below,  a  young  raspberry  bush,  leafless  and 
almost  dry,  twists  and  turns  as  it  reaches  out  toward 
the  sun,  green,  needle-like  spears  of  grass  thrusting 
themselves  between  the  last  year's  leaves,  and  all  be- 
sprinkled with  dew,  grow  green  and  rich  in  the  eternal 
shade,  as  though  they  did  not  -know  how  brightly  the 
sun  is  playing  upon  the  apples. 

In  this  thicket  it  is  always  damp  ;  it  is  redolent  of 
dense  and  constant  shade,  of  spiders'  webs  and  wind- 
falls of  apples,  which  already  lie  blackening  upon  the 
rotting  earth  ;  of  raspberries,  and  sometimes  of  the 
wood-lice,  which  you  swallow  unwittingly  with  your 
berry, — after  which,  you    eat    another  as   speedily  as 


YOUTH  321 

possible.  As  you  advance,  you  frighten  the  sparrows 
who  always  dwell  in  this  thicket ;  you  hear  their  anxious 
twittering,  and  the  beating  of  their  swift,  tiny  wings 
against  the  branches  ;  you  hear  in  one  spot  the  hum  of 
the  wasp,  and,  somewhere  on  the  paths,  the  footstep 
of  the  gardener,  of  Akim  the  little  fool,  and  his  per- 
petual purring  to  himself;  you  say  to  yourself,  "No  I 
neither  he  nor  any  one  in  the  world  can  find  me  here." 
With  both  hands,  you  pick  the  juicy  berries  right  and 
left  from  their  white,  conical  stalks,  and  swallow  them 
with  delight  one  after  the  other.  Your  legs  are  wet 
through,  far  above  the  knee  ;  your  head  is  full  of  some 
frightful  nonsense  or  other  (you  repeat  mentally,  a  thou- 
sand times  in  succession,  "  A-a-n-d  to-00-0  twen-ty-y-y, 
a-a-n-d  to-00-0  se-e-v-ee-en  ") ;  your  arms  and  legs  are 
dripping ;  your  trousers  are  stinging  hot  with  nettles  ; 
the  perpendicular  rays  of  the  sun,  which  have  pene- 
trated the  thicket,  begin  to  burn  your  head  ;  your  desire 
to  eat  has  long  since  vanished,  and  you  sit  on  in  the 
wilderness,  and  listen  and  look  and  meditate,  and  me- 
chanically pull  off  and  swallow  still  more  berries. 

I  generally  went  to  the  drawing-room  at  eleven,  usually 
after  tea,  when  the  ladies  were  already  seated  at  their 
work.  Around  the  first  window,  curtained  with  a  blind 
of  unbleached  linen,  through  a  crevice  of  which  the 
brilliant  sun  casts  such  dazzling,  fiery  circles  on  every- 
thing which  comes  in  its  way  that  it  pains  the  eyes  to 
look  at  them,  stands  the  embroidery-frame,  over  whose 
white  linen  the  flies  promenade  peacefully.  At  the 
frame  sits  Mimi,  shaking  her  head  incessantly  in  an 
angry  manner,  and  moving  from  place  to  place  to  escape 
the  sun,  which,  suddenly  breaking  through  somewhere 
or  other,  casts  a  burning  streak  of  light  now  on  her 
hand,  now  on  her  face.  Through  the  other  three 
windows  it  falls,  with  the  shadows  of  the  frames,  in  full, 
brilliant,  square  patches.  Upon  one  of  these,  on  the 
unpainted  floor  of  the  drawing-room,  lies  Milka,  from 
ancient  habit,  and  pricks  up  her  ears  and  watches  the 
flies  as  they  walk  about  over  the  square  of  light. 
Katenka  knits  or  reads,  as  she  sits  on    the    sofa,  and 


322 


YOUTH 


impatiently  flourishes  her  white  hands  which  seem  trans- 
parent in  the  bright  Hght,  or  shakes  her  head,  with  a 
frown,  in  order  to  drive  off  the  flies  which  have  crawled 
into  her  thick  golden  locks  and  are  fluttering  there. 
Liubotchka  either  paces  back  and  forth  in  the  room, 
with  her  hands  behind  her,  waiting  until  they  shall  go 
into  the  garden,  or  plays  upon  the  piano  some  piece 
with  every  note  of  which  I  have  long  been  familiar.  1 
seat  myself  somewhere,  and  listen  to  the  music  or  the 
reading,  and  wait  until  I  can  sit  down  to  the  piano 
myself.  After  dinner  I  occasionally  condescended  to 
ride  on  horseback  with  the  girls  (I  considered  walking 
exercise  unsuitable  to  my  age  and  position  in  the  world)  ; 
and  our  excursions,  during  which  I  led  them  through 
extraordinary  places  and  ravines,  were  very  pleasant. 
Sometimes  we  had  adventures,  in  which  I  exhibited 
great  bravery,  and  the  ladies  praised  my  riding  and  my 
daring,  and  regarded  me  as  their  protector.  In  the 
evening,  if  there  are  no  visitors,  after  tea,  which  we 
drink  in  the  shady  veranda,  and  after  a  stroll  with  papa 
on  the  business  of  the  estate,  I  lie  down  in  my  old 
place  on  the  veranda  on  the  long  sofa-chair,  and  read 
and  dream,  as  of  old,  as  I  listen  to  Katenka's  and 
Liubotchka's  music.  Sometimes  when  I  am  left  alone 
in  the  drawing-room,  and  Liubotchka  is  playing  some 
ancient  music,  I  drop  my  book,  and,  gazing  through 
the  open  door  of  the  balcony  at  the  curling,  drooping 
boughs  of  the  lofty  beeches,  upon  which  the  shadows 
of  evening  are  already  falling,  and  at  the  pure  heavens, 
in  which,  if  you  gaze  fixedly,  a  dusty,  yellowish  spot 
seems  to  appear  all  at  once,  and  vanish  again,  and  lend- 
ing an  ear  to  the  sounds  of  music  from  the  hall,  to  the 
creaking  of  the  gate,  the  voices  of  women  and  the  herd 
returning  to  the  village,  I  suddenly  recall  with  great 
vividness  Natalya  Savischna  and  mamma,  and  Karl 
Ivanitch,  and  for  a  moment  I  feel  sad.  But  my  soul  is 
so  full  of  life  and  hope  at  this  period,  that  these  memo- 
ries only  brush  me  with  their  wings,  and  soar  away. 

After  supper,  and  sometimes  after  a  walk  by  night 
in  the  garden  with  some  one,  —  I  was  afraid  to  traverse 


YOUTH  323 

•vhe  dark  alleys  alone,  —  I  went  off  alone  to  sleep  on 
the  floor  of  the  veranda,  which  afforded  me  great 
pleasure  in  spite  of  the  millions  of  mosquitoes  which 
devoured  me.  When  the  moon  was  at  the  full,  I  often 
spent  whole  nights  seated  on  my  mattress,  gazing  at 
the  lights  and  shadows,  listening  to  the  stillness  and  the 
noises,  dreaming  of  various  subjects,  especially  of  poetic 
and  voluptuous  bliss,  which  then  seemed  to  me  to  be 
the  highest  happiness  in  life,  and  grieving  because,  up 
to  this  time,  it  had  been  granted  to  me  to  imagine  it 
only.  Sometimes  when  all  have  but  just  dispersed, 
and  the  lights  in  the  drawing-room  have  been  trans- 
ferred to  the  upper  chambers,  where  feminine  voices, 
and  the  sound  of  windows  opening  and  shutting,  have 
become  audible,  I  betake  myself  to  the  gallery,  and  pace 
it,  listening  eagerly  to  all  the  sounds  of  the  house  as 
it  lapses  into  sleep.  So  long  as  there  is  the  smallest, 
unfounded  hope  of  a  bliss,  even  though  incomplete, 
such  as  that  I  dream  of,  I  cannot  calmly  construct  an 
imaginary  bliss  for  myself. 

At  every  sound  of  naked  feet,  at  every  cough,  sigh, 
touch  given  to  a  window,  or  rustle  of  a  dress,  I  spring 
from  my  bed,  I  hearken  like  a  robber,  I  peer  about,  and 
become  agitated  without  any  visible  cause.  But  now 
the  lights  disappear  in  the  upper  windows ;  the  sounds 
of  footsteps  and  conversation  are  replaced  by  snores  ; 
the  night-watchman  begins  to  tap  upon  his  board  ;  the 
garden  grows  more  gloomy,  and  yet  brighter,  as  the 
streaks  of  red  light  from  the  windows  disappear  from 
it ;  the  last  candle  flits  from  the  butler's  pantry  to 
the  anteroom,  throwing  a  strip  of  light  upon  the 
dewy  garden ;  and  through  the  window  I  can  see 
the  bent  figure  of  Foka,  on  his  way  to  bed,  clad  in 
a  wrapper,  and  with  a  candle  in  his  hands.  I  often 
took  a  great  and  agitating  delight  in  creeping  over 
the  damp  grass,  in  the  black  shadow  of  the  house, 
approaching  the  window  of  the  anteroom,  and  listening, 
as  I  held  my  breath,  to  the  snores  of  the  boy,  the  groans 
of  Foka,  who  supposed  that  no  one  could  hear  him,  and 
the  sound  of  his  aged  voice  as  he  recited  prayers  for  a 


3^4 


YOUTH 


long,  long  time.  At  length  his  last  candle  was  extin- 
guished, the  window  was  slammed  to,  and  I  remained 
quite  alone  ;  and,  glancing  about  on  all  sides,  to  see 
whether  there  was  a  white  woman  anywhere,  beside  the 
clumps  of  shrubbery  or  beside  my  bed,  I  hastened  to 
the  veranda  at  a  trot.  And  sometimes  I  lay  on  my  bed 
with  my  face  to  the  garden,  and,  coverjng  myself  as 
much  as  possible  from  the  mosquitoes  and  bats,  I  gazed 
into  the  garden,  listened  to  the  sounds  of  the  night, 
and  dreamed  of  love  and  bliss. 

Then  everything  acquired  another  meaning  for  me  ; 
and  the  sight  of  the  ancient  beeches,  as  their  curving 
branches  on  one  side  shone  in  the  light  of  the  moonlit 
heavens,  on  the  other  side  casting  black  shadows  over 
the  bushes  and  the  road  ;  and  the  calm,  splendid  gleam 
of  the  pond  increasing  like  a  sound  ;  and  the  moonlit 
gleam  of  dewdrops  upon  the  flowers  in  front  of  the 
veranda,  which  threw  their  graceful  shadows  across 
the  gray  beds  ;  and  the  sound  of  the  snipe  beyond  the 
pond  ;  and  the  voice  of  a  man  on  the  highway  ;  and 
the  quiet,  almost  inaudible  scraping  of  two  old  beeches 
against  each  other ;  and  the  hum  of  a  mosquito  over 
my  ear  and  beneath  the  coverlet ;  and  the  fall  of  an 
apple  which  had  been  caught  on  the  dry  bough,  upon 
the  dry  leaves ;  and  the  hops  of  the  frogs  which  some- 
times even  got  so  far  as  the  veranda  steps,  and  shone 
rather  mysteriously  in  the  moonlight  with  their  green 
backs,  —  all  this  assumed  a  strange  significance  for  me, 
the  significance  of  a  beauty  too  great,  and  of  an  endless 
happiness.  And  then  sJie  appeared,  with  a  long  black 
braid  of  hair,  a  swelling  bosom,  always  sad  and  very 
beautiful,  with  bare  arms  and  voluptuous  embraces. 
She  loved  me,  and  for  one  moment  of  her  love  I  sacri- 
ficed my  whole  life.  But  the  moon  rose  higher  and 
higher,  brighter  and  brighter,  in  the  sky ;  the  gorgeous 
gleam  of  the  pond,  swelling  like  a  sound,  became  clearer 
and  clearer ;  the  shadows  grew  blacker  and  blacker,  the 
light  more  and  more  transparent  ;  and  as  I  looked  upon 
and  listened  to  it  all,  something  told  me  that  she  with 
her   bare    arms    and    fiery  embrace    was    far,    very   far 


YOUTH  325 

from  being  the  whole  of  happiness,  that  love  for  her 
was  far,  very  far  from  being  all  of  bliss  ;  and  the  more 
T  gazed  upon  the  high,  full  moon,  the  more  and  more 
lofty,  the  purer  and  purer,  the  nearer  and  nearer  to 
Him,  to  the  source  of  all  beauty  and  bliss,  did  true 
beauty  and  bliss  seem  to  me  ;  and  tears  of  an  unsatis- 
fied but  agitated  joy  rushed  to  my  eyes. 

And  still  I  was  alone,  and  still  it  seemed  to  me  that 
this  mysteriously  magnificent  nature,  the  bright  sphere  of 
the  moon  which  draws  one  to  her,  and  hangs  in  a  lofty 
but  uncertain  spot  in  the  pale  blue  heavens,  and  yet 
seems  to  stand  everywhere  as  though  filling  with  itself 
all  immeasurable  space,  and  I,  an  insignificant  worm, 
already  stained  with  all  poor,  petty  earthly  passions, 
but  endowed  also  with  a  boundlessly  compelling  power 
of  imagination  and  of  love,  —  it  seemed  to  me  at  such 
moments  as  though  nature  and  the  moon  and  I  were  all 
one  and  the  same. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

NEIGHBORS 

I  HAD  been  very  much  surprised,  the  first  day  we 
were  in  the  country,  that  papa  should  call  the  Epifa- 
noffs  fine  people,  and  still  more  surprised  that  he  should 
go  to  their  house.  There  was  a  lawsuit  of  long  stand- 
ing between  us  and  the  Epifanoffs.  I  had  heard  papa 
rage  over  this  lawsuit  many  a  time  when  I  was  a  child, 
storm  at  the  Epifanoffs,  and  summon  various  people  to 
defend  him  against  them,  as  I  understood  it;  I  had 
heard  Yakoff  call  them  our  enemies,  and  serfs, -^  and  I 
remember  how  mamma  requested  that  no  mention  of 
these  people  might  be  made  in  her  house  or  in  her 
presence. 

On  these  data  I  had  constructed  for  myself,  in  my 
childhood,  such  a  fine  and  clear  idea  that  the  Epifanoffs 

^  Tchernuie  liiidi,  lilack  people,  common  people. — Tr. 


326  YOUTH 

were  our  enemies,  who  were  ready  not  only  to  cut  papa's 
throat  or  to  strangle  him,  but  that  of  his  son  also  if  they 
could  catch  him,  and  that  they  were  black  people  in  the 
literal  sense  of  the  word,  that  when  I  beheld  Avdotya 
VasiUevna  Epifanoff,  la  belle  Flamaiide,  waiting  upon 
mamma  the  year  she  died,  it  was  with  difficulty  that  I 
could  believe  that  she  was  one  of  that  family  of  black 
people  ;  and  I  still  retained  the  basest  opinion  of  this 
family.  Although  we  often  met  them  in  the  course  of 
this  summer,  I  continued  to  be  strongly  prejudiced 
against  the  whole  family.  In  reality,  this  was  what 
the  Epifanoffs  were.  The  family  consisted  of  the 
mother,  a  widow  of  fifteen  years'  standing,  who  was 
still  a  fresh  and  merry  old  lady,  the  beautiful  daughter 
Avdotya  Vasilievna,  and  a  stuttering  son,  Piotr  Vasili- 
evitch,  who  was  a  retired  lieutenant,  and  a  bachelor  of 
a  very  serious  character. 

Anna  Dmitrievna  Epifanoff  had  lived  apart  from  her 
husband  for  twenty  years  before  his  death,  sometimes 
in  Petersburg,  where  she  had  relatives,  but  for  the  most 
part  in  her  village  of  Muitishcha,  which  was  situated  at 
a  distance  of  three  versts  from  us.  Such  horrors  were 
related  in  the  neighborhood  about  her  manner  of  life, 
that  Messalina  was  an  innocent  child  in  comparison 
with  her.  In  consequence  of  this,  mamma  requested 
that  even  the  name  of  the  Epifanova  might  not  be 
mentioned  in  her  house  ;  but,  speaking  entirely  without 
irony,  it  was  impossible  to  believe  even  a  tenth  part  of 
the  most  malicious  of  all  possible  scandals,  —  the  scan- 
dals of  neighbors  in  the  country.  But  when  I  knew 
Anna  Dmitrievna,  although  she  had  in  the  house  a 
peasant  business  manager  named  Mitiuscha,  who  was 
always  pomaded  and  curled,  and  dressed  in  a  coat  after 
the  Circassian  fashion,  who  stood  behind  Anna  Dmitri- 
evna's  chair  at  dinner,  while  she  frequently  invited  her 
guests  in  French  in  his  presence  to  admire  his  hand- 
some eyes  and  mouth,  there  was  nothing  of  the  sort 
which  rumor  continued  to  talk  about.  In  fact,  it  ap- 
pears that  for  the  last  ten  years,  from  the  time,  indeed, 
when   Anna  Dmitrievna  had   recalled  her  dutiful    son 


YOUTH  327 

Petruscha  from  the  service,  she  had  entirely  changed 
her  manner  of  life. 

Anna  Dmitrievna's  estate  was  small,  a  hundred  souls 
in  all,  and  her  expenses  during  her  gay  life  were  large, 
so  that  ten  years  before  this,  of  course,  the  mortgages 
and  double  mortgages  on  her  estate  had  fallen  due,  and 
its  sale  by  auction  was  unavoidable.  Fancying  in  these 
extremities  that  the  trusteeship,  the  inventory  of  the 
estate,  the  arrival  of  the  judge,  and  such  like  unpleas- 
antnesses arose  not  so  much  from  her  failure  to  pay  the 
interest,  as  from  the  fact  that  she  was  a  woman,  Anna 
Dmitrievna  wrote  to  her  son,  who  was  with  his  regiment, 
to  come  to  the  rescue  of  his  mother  in  this  strait. 

Although  Piotr  Vasilievitch  was  doing  so  well  in  the 
service  that  he  hoped  soon  to  be  earning  his  own  bit  of 
bread,  he  gave  up  everything,  went  on  the  retired  list, 
and  like  a  respectful  son,  who  considered  it  his  first 
duty  to  comfort  his  mother's  old  age  (as  he  wrote  with 
perfect  sincerity  in  his  letters),  came  to  the  village, 

Piotr  Vasilievitch,  in  spite  of  his  homely  face,  his 
awkwardness,  and  his  stutter,  was  a  man  of  very  firm 
principles  and  remarkable  practical  sense.  He  kept 
possession  of  the  property  by  means  of  small  loans, 
temporizing,  prayers,  and  promises.  Having  turned 
property-owner,  Piotr  Vasilievitch  donned  his  father's 
fur-lined  coat  which  had  been  laid  up  in  the  store-room, 
got  rid  of  his  horses  and  carriages,  taught  visitors  not 
to  come  to  Muitishcha,  dug  drains,  increased  the  arable 
land,  cut  down  the  peasants'  allotments,  felled  his  woods 
and  sold  them  in  a  businesslike  way,  and  got  his  affairs 
into  order.  Piotr  Vasilievitch  took  a  vow,  and  kept  it, 
that,  until  all  the  debts  were  paid,  he  would  wear  no 
other  clothes  than  his  father's  bekescJia  (coat),  and  a 
canvas  paletot  which  he  made  for  himself,  and  that  he 
would  not  ride  in  any  other  way  than  in  a  peasant  cart 
with  the  peasants'  work-horses.  He  endeavored  to  im- 
pose this  stoical  manner  of  life  upon  all  the  family,  in 
so  far  as  his  servile  respect  for  his  mother,  which  he 
considered  his  duty,  permitted.  In  the  drawing-room 
he  stammered,  and  conducted  himself  in  the  most  sla 


328  YOUTH 

vish  manner  toward  his  mother,  fulfilled  all  her  wishes, 
scolded  people  if  they  did  not  do  what  Anna  Dmitri- 
evna  commanded;  but  in  his  own  study,  and  in  the 
office,  he  called  every  one  to  strict  account  because  a 
duck  had  been  sent  to  the  table  without  his  orders,  or 
because  a  peasant  man  had  been  sent  by  Anna  Dmitri- 
evna  to  inquire  after  some  neighbor's  health,  or  because 
the  peasant  girls  had  been  sent  to  the  woods  for  rasp- 
berries instead  of  being  at  work  weeding  the  garden. 

In  the  course  of  four  years,  all  the  debts  had  been 
paid,  and  Piotr  Vasilievitch  returned  from  a  trip  to 
Moscow  in  new  clothes  and  a  tarantass.  But  in  spite 
of  this  flourishing  state  of  affairs,  he  still  retained  the 
same  stoical  proclivities,  in  which  he  seemed  to  take  a 
gloomy  pride  before  his  own  family  and  strangers ;  and  he 
often  said,  with  a  stutter,  "  Any  one  who  really  wants  to 
see  me  will  be  glad  to  see  me  in  my  tidup}  and  he  will 
also  eat  my  cabbage-soup  and  boiled  buckwheat  —  I  eat 
them,"  he  added.  Every  word  and  movement  expressed 
pride  founded  upon  the  consciousness  that  he  had  sacri- 
ficed himself  for  his  mother,  and  had  redeemed  the 
property  ;  and  scorn  for  others  because  they  had  done 
nothing  of  the  sort. 

The  characters  of  the  mother  and  daughter  were 
totally  unlike  this,  and  they  differed  from  each  other  in 
many  respects.  The  mother  was  one  of  the  most 
agreeable  and  cheerful  women  in  society,  and  always 
equably  good-natured.  She  really  rejoiced  in  every- 
thing that  was  gay  and  pleasing.  She  even  possessed, 
in  the  highest  degree,  the  capacity  of  enjoying  the  sight 
of  young  people  making  merry,  which  is  a  trait  en- 
countered only  in  the  most  good-natured  old  people. 
Her  daughter,  Avdotya  Vasilievna,  on  the  contrary,  was 
of  a  serious  character ;  or,  rather,  she  possessed  that 
peculiarly  indifferent,  dreamy  disposition,  united  to 
haughtiness  which  was  utterly  without  grounds,  and 
which  unmarried  beauties  generally  possess.  When 
she  wished  to  be  gay,  her  niirth  proved  rather  strange, 
as  though  she  were  laughing  at  herself,  at  those  with 

^  Sheepskin  coat. 


YOUTH  329 

whom  she  spoke,  or  at  all  the  world,  which  she  assuredly 
did  not  mean  to  do.  I  often  wondered  and  questioned 
myself  as  to  what  she  meant  by  such  phrases  as  these: 
"  Yes,  I  am  awfully  handsome !  of  course  everybody  is 
in  love  with  me,"  and  so  on.  Anna  Dmitrievna  was 
always  active.  "  She  had  a  passion  for  arranging  the 
little  house  and  garden,  for  flowers,  canaries,  and  pretty 
things.  Her  chambers  and  garden  were  not  large  or 
luxurious  ;  but  everything  was  so  clean,  so  neatly  ar- 
ranged, and  everything  bore  such  a  general -imprint  of 
that  daintily  light  mirth  which  a  pretty  waltz  or  polka 
expresses,  that  the  word  toy,  which  was  often  used  in 
commendation  by  her  guests,  was  particularly  suited  to 
Anna  Dmitrievna's  tiny  garden  and  apartments.  And 
Anna  Dmitrievna  herself  was  a  toy  —  small,  thin,  with 
a  bright  complexion  and  pretty  little  hands,  always 
merry,  and  always  becomingly  dressed.  Only  the  rather 
excessively  swollen,  dark-lilac  veins  which  were  traced 
upon  her  little  hands  disturbed  this  general  character. 

Avdotya  Vasilievna,  on  the  contrary,  hardly  ever  did 
anything,  and  not  only  was  not  fond  of  busying  herself 
over  flowers  and  dainty  trifles,  but  she  occupied  herself 
too  little  with  herself,  and  always  ran  off  to  dress  when 
visitors  arrived.  But  when  she  returned,  dressed,  to  the 
room,  she  was  remarkably  pretty,  with  the  exception  of 
the  cold  monotonous  expression  of  her  eyes  and  smile 
which  is  characteristic  of  all  very  handsome  faces. 
Her  strictly  regular  and  very  beautiful  face  and  her 
stately  figure  seemed  to  be  constantly  saying  to  you, 
"  You  may  look  at  me  if  you  please." 

But,  notwithstanding  the  vivacious  character  of  the 
mother,  and  the  indifferent,  dreamy  exterior  of  the 
daughter,  something  told  you  that  the  former  had  never 
loved  anything,  either  now  or  in  times  past,  except  what 
was  pretty  and  gay  ;  and  that  Avdotya  Vasilievna  was 
one  of  those  natures  which,  if  they  once  love,  will  sacri- 
fice their  whole  life  to  the  one  they  love. 


330  YOUTH 

CHAPTER   XXXIV 

father's  marriage 

Father  was  forty-eight  years  old  when  he  took 
Avdotya  Vasilievna;  Epifanoff  for  his  second  wife. 

I  fancy  that  when  papa  came  alone,  in  the  spring,  to 
the  country,  with  the  girls,  he  was  in  that  nervously 
happy  and  sociable  state  of  mind  in  which  gamblers 
usually  are 'when  they  have  ceased  playing  after  large 
winnings.  He  felt  that  much  unexhausted  luck  yet 
remained  for  him,  which,  if  he  did  no<"  care  to  employ 
it  any  longer  on  cards,  he  might  expend  upon  general 
success  in  life.  Moreover,  it  was  spring;  he  was  unex- 
pectedly in  possession  of  a  good  deal  of  money ;  he  was 
entirely  alone,  and  bored.  In  discussing  matters  with 
Yakoff,  and  recalling  the  interminable  lawsuit  with  the 
Epifanoffs,  and  the  beautiful  Avdotya  Vasilievna,  whom 
he  had  not  seen  for  a  long  time,  I  can  fancy  how  he  said 
to  Yakoff,  "  Do  you  know,  Yakoff  Kharlamitch,  I  think 
it  would  be  better  to  yield  that  cursed  piece  of  ground 
to  them  than  to  go  on  with  this  suit ;  hey  ?  What  do 
you  think  } " 

I  can  imagine  how  Yakoff's  fingers  twisted  a  nega- 
tive behind  his  back  at  such  a  question,  and  how  he 
proved  that  "  we  have  the  rights  of  that  business,  after 
all,  Piotr  Alexandrovitch." 

But  papa  ordered  the  calash  to  be  got  ready,  put  on 
his  fashionable  olive  coat,  brushed  the  remains  of  his 
hair,  sprinkled  his  handkerchief  with  perfume,  and  in 
the  most  cheerful  frame  of  mind,  which  was  inspired 
in  him  by  the  conviction  that  he  was  acting  in  a  lordly 
way,  and  chiefly  by  the  hope  of  seeing  a  pretty  woman, 
he  drove  off  to  his  neighbor's. 

I  only  know  that  papa,  at  his  visit,  did  not  find  Piotr 
Vasilievitch,  who  was  in  the  fields ;  and  he  passed  an 
hour  or  two  with  the  ladies.  I  can  imagine  how  he 
overflowed  with  amiability,  how  he  charmed  them,  as 
he  tapped  the  floor  with  his  soft  boot,  whispered,  and 


YOUTH  331 

made  sheep's-eyes.  I  can  imagine,  too,  how  the  merry 
little  old  woman  conceived  a  sudden  tender  affection  for 
him,  and  how  animated  her  cold  and  beautiful  daughter 
became. 

When  the  maid-servant  ran  panting  to  announce  to 
Piotr  Vasilievitch  that  old  Irteneff  himself  had  come, 
I  can  imagine  how  he  answered  angrily,  "Well,  what  of 
it  ?  What  has  he  come  for  ?  "  and  how,  in  consequence 
of  this,  he  returned  home  as  quietly  as  possible,  and 
perhaps  even  turning  in  to  his  study,  put  on  his  dirty 
paletot  expressly,  and  sent  word  to  the  cook  not  to 
dare,  under  any  circumstances  whatever,  to  make  any 
additions  to  the  dinner,  even  if  the  ladies  ordered  it. 

I  often  saw  papa  in  Epifanoff's  company  afterward, 
so  that  I  can  form  a  vivid  idea  of  that  first  meeting.  I 
can  imagine  how,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  papa  offered 
to  terminate  that  suit  peacefully,  Piotr  Vasilievitch  was 
gloomy  and  angry  because  he  had  sacrificed  his  career 
to  his  mother,  and  papa  had  done  nothing  of  the  sort, 
and  so  he  did  not  admire  him  in  the  least ;  and  how 
papa,  pretending  not  to  see  this  gloom,  was  merry  and 
playful,  and  treated  him  as  a  wonderful  jester,  which  at 
times  rather  offended  Piotr  Vasilievitch,  though  he 
could  not  help  yielding  to  him  occasionally,  against  his 
will.  Papa,  with  his  proclivity  for  turning  everything 
into  jest,  called  Piotr  Vasilievitch  colonel,  for  some 
reason  or  other ;  and,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  Epifanoff 
once  remarked,  in  my  presence,  reddening  with  vexa- 
tion, and  stuttering  even  worse  than  usual,  that  he 
"was  not  a  co-co-co-co-lonel,  but  a  lieu-lieu-lieu-lieuten- 
ant," papa  called  him  colonel  again  five  minutes  after- 
ward.^ 

Liubotchka  told  me  that,  before  our  arrival  in  the 
village,  he  saw  the  Epifanoff s  every  day,  and  was  ex- 
tremely gay.  Papa,  with  his  faculty  for  arranging 
everything  in  a  certain  original,  jesting,  and  at  the 
same  time  simple  and  elegant  manner,  had  got  up  hunt- 

^  The  touch  of  probability  necessary  to  allow  Irteneff  to  do  this  without 
seeming  to  intend  a  direct  offense  is  furnished  by  the  similarity  of  the  firsf 
syllables  of  the  words  in  Russian  ;  polkovnik  3.n<\  poruichik.  —  Tr. 


33^ 


YOUTH 


ing  and  fishing  parties,  and  some  fireworks,  at  which  the 
Epifanoffs  had  been  present.  "  And  things  would  have 
been  jollier  still,"  said  Liubotchka,  "  if  it  had  not  been 
for  that  intolerable  Piotr  Vasilievitch,  who  pouted  and 
stuttered  and  upset  everything." 

From  the  date  of  our  arrival,  the  Epifanoffs  came  to 
see  us  only  twice,  and  we  all  went  to  them  once.  And 
after  St.  Peter's  day,  papa's  name-day,  when  they  and  a 
throng  of  guests  came,  our  relations  with  the  Epifanoffs 
entirely  ceased,  for  some  reason  or  other,  and  papa  alone 
continued  to  call  upon  them. 

But  this  is  what  I  contrived  to  observe  during  the 
time  that  I  saw  papa  with  Dunitchka,  as  mamma  hid 
called  her.  Papa  was  constantly  in  that  happy  mood 
which  had  struck  me  on  the  day  of  our  arrival.  He  was 
so  gay  and  young,  and  full  of  life  and  happiness,  that 
the  beams  of  this  happiness  spread  over  all  about  him, 
and  involuntarily  infected  them  with  the  same  mood. 
He  never  went  so  much  as  a  step  apart  from  Avdptya 
Vasilievna  when  she  was  in  the  room,  and  paid  her  in- 
cessantly such  sweet  compliments,  that  I  felt  ashamed 
for  him  ;  or  he  sat  gazing  at  her  in  silence,  and  twitched 
his  shoulders  in  a  passionate  and  self-satisfied  sort  of 
way,  and  coughed ;  and  sometimes  even  whispered  to 
her  smilingly.  All  this  was  done  with  that  expression, 
that  jesting  way,  which  was  characteristic  of  him  in  the 
most  serious  matters. 

Avdotya  Vasilievna  seemed  to  have  appropriated  to 
herself  from  papa  the  expression  of  happiness,  which  at 
this  period  beamed  in  her  great  blue  eyes  almost  con- 
stantly, with  the  exception  of  the  moments  when  such 
shyness  took  possession  of  her,  all  of  a  sudden,  that  it 
made  me,  who  was  acquainted  with  the  feeling,  pained 
and  sorry  to  look  at  her.  At  such  moments,  she  visi- 
bly feared  every  glance  and  movement ;  it  seemed  to 
her  as  though  every  one  were  staring  at  her,  thinking 
only  of  her,  and  considered  everything  about  her  im- 
proper. She  glanced  timidly  at  all ;  the  color  con- 
stantly flooded  her  face,  and  retreated  from  it ;  and 
she  began  to  talk  loudly  and  daringly,  uttering  nonsense 


YOUTH  333 

I'or  the  most  part,  and  she  was  conscious  of  it,  and  con- 
scious that  everybody,  inckiding  papa,  was  Hstening, 
and  then  she  blushed  still  more.  But  in  such  cases 
papa  did  not  even  observe  the  nonsense,  but  went  on 
coughing'  as  passionately  as  ever,  and  gazing  at  her 
with  joyous  rapture.  I  observed  that,  although  Avdo- 
tya's  fits  of  shyness  came  upon  her  without  any  cause, 
they  sometimes  immediately  followed  the  mention  of 
some  young  and  beautiful  woman  in  papa's  presence. 
The  constant  transitions  from  thoughtfulness  to  this 
strange,  awkward  gayety  of  hers,  of  which  I  have  al- 
ready spoken,  the  repetition  of  papa's  favorite  words 
and  turns  of  speech,  her  way  of  continuing  with  other 
people  discussions  which  had  been  begun  with  papa,  all 
this  would  have  explained  to  me  the  relations  which  ex- 
isted between  papa  and  Avdotya  Vasilievna,  had  the  per- 
son in  question  been  any  one  but  my  own  father,  and 
had  I  been  a  little  older ;  but  I  suspected  nothing,  even 
when  papa,  on  receiving  in  my  presence  a  letter  from 
Piotr  Vasilievitch,  was  very  much  put  out,  and  ceased 
his  visits  to  the  Epifanoffs  until  the  end  of  August. 

At  the  end  of  August,  papa  again  began  to  visit  our 
neighbors  ;  and  on  the  day  before  Volodya  and  I  set  out 
for  Moscow,  he  announced  to  us  that  he  was  going  to 
marry  Avdotya  Vasilievna. 


CHAPTER   XXXV 

HOW    WE    RECEIVED    THE    NEWS 

Every  one  in  the  house  had  known  the  fact  on  the 
day  before  the  official  announcement,  and  various  ver- 
dicts had  been  pronounced  on  it.  Mimi  did  not  leave 
her  room  all  day,  and  cried.  Katenka  sat  with  her,  and 
only  came  out  to  dinner,  with  an  injured  expression  of 
countenance  which  she  had  evidently  borrowed  from  her 
mother.  Liubotchka,  on  the  contrary,  was  very  cheer- 
ful, and  said  at  dinner  that  she  knew  a  splendid  secret 
that  she  would  not  tell  any  one. 


334 


YOUTH 


"  There 's  nothing  splendid  in  your  secret,"  said 
Volodya,  who  did  not  share  her  satisfaction ;  "  on  the 
contrary,  if  you  were  capable  of  thinking  of  anything 
serious,  you  would  understand  that  it  is  very  bad." 
Liubotchka  looked  at  him  intently  in  amazement,  and 
said  nothing. 

After  dinner,  Volodya  wanted  to  take  me  by  the  arm  ; 
but,  fearing  probably  that  this  would  be  too  much  like 
tenderness,  he  merely  touched  me  on  the  elbow,  and 
motioned  me  to  the  hall  with  a  nod. 

"Do  you  know  the  secret  which  Liubotchka  men- 
tioned.-'" he  said  to  me,  when  he  had  satisfied  himself 
that  we  were  alone. 

Volodya  and  I  rarely  talked  to  each  other  face  to  face 
about  anything  serious,  so  that,  when  it  did  happen,  we 
felt  a  kind  of  mutual  awkwardness,  and  little  boys  began 
to  dance  in  our  eyes,  as  Volodya  expressed  it  ;  but  now, 
in  answer  to  the  consternation  expressed  in  my  eyes,  he 
continued  to  stare  me  steadily  and  seriously  in  the  eye 
with  an  expression  which  said,  "There  's  nothing  to  be 
alarmed  about,  but  we  're  brothers  all  the  same,  and 
must  consult  together  upon  a  weighty  family  matter." 
I  understood  him,  and  he  proceeded  :  — 

"  Papa  is  going  to  marry  the  Epifanova,  you  know," 

I  nodded,  because  I  had  already  heard  about  it. 

"  It 's  not  nice  at  all,"  went  on  Volodya. 

"Why.?" 

"Why  .-•"  he  replied,  with  vexation  :  "it 's  very  pleas- 
ant to  have  such  a  stammering  uncle,  a  colonel,  and  all 
those  connections.  Yes,  and  she  only  seems  good  now  ; 
but  that  proves  nothing,  and  who  knows  what  she'll 
turn  out .''  Granted  that  it  makes  no  difference  to  us, 
still  Liubotchka  must  soon  come  out  in  the  world.  It 's 
not  very  pleasant  with  such  a  stepmother ;  she  even 
speaks  French  badly,  and  what  manners  she  may  give 
her  !  She  's  a  fishwife  and  nothing  more  ;  suppose  she 
is  good,  she 's  a  fishwife  all  the  same,"  concluded 
Volodya,  evidently  very  much  pleased  with  this  appella- 
tion of  "  fishwife." 

Strange  as  it  was  to  me  to  hear  Volodya  thus  calmly 


YOUTH  335 

pass  judgment  on  papa's  choice,  it  struck  me  that  he 
was  right. 

"  Why  does  papa  marry  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  It 's  a  queer  story  ;  God  only  knows.  All  I  know 
is  that  Piotr  Vasilievitch  persuaded  him  to  marry,  and 
demanded  it ;  that  papa  did  not  wish  to,  and  then  he 
took  a  fancy  to,  out  of  some  idea  of  chivalry  ;  it 's  a 
queer  story.  I  have  just  begun  to  understand  father," 
went  on  Volodya  (his  calling  him  "father"  instead  of 
"papa"  wounded  me  deeply);  "that  he  is  a  very  fine 
man,  good  and  intelligent,  but  so  light-minded  and  fickle  : 
it 's  amazing  !  He  can't  look  at  a  woman  with  any  cool- 
ness. Why,  you  know  that  he  has  never  been  ac- 
quainted with  any  woman,  that  he  has  not  been  in  love 
with  her.     You  know  it 's  so  ;  and  even  with  Mimi." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"  I  tell  you  that  I  found  out  a  while  ago  that  he  was 
in  love  with  Mimi  when  she  was  young,  wrote  her  verses, 
and  there  was  something  between  them.  Mimi  suffers 
to  this  day."     And  Volodya  broke  into  a  laugh. 

"  It  can't  be  so  !  "  I  said,  in  amazement, 

"  But  the  chief  point,"  continued  Volodya,  becoming 
serious  again,  and  beginning  suddenly  to  speak  in  French, 
"is,  how  agreeable  such  a  marriage  will  be  to  all  our  kin  ! 
And  she  '11  be  sure  to  have  children." 

Volodya's  sensible  view,  and  his  foresight,  startled 
me  so  that  I  did  not  know  what  to  say  in  reply. 

Just  then  Liubotchka  approached  us. 

"  So  you  know  ? "  she  asked,  with  a  glad  face. 

"Yes,"  said  Volodya;  "but  I  am  surprised,  Liu- 
botchka. You  are  no  longer  a  child  in  swaddling- 
clothes  ;  how  can  you  feel  glad  that  papa  is  going  to 
marry  a  worthless  woman  ?  " 

Liubotchka  suddenly  looked  grave  and  became 
thoughtful. 

"  Volodya  !  why  do  you  say  worthless  .''  How  dare 
you  speak' so  of  Avdotya  Vasilievna  }  If  papa  is  going 
to  marry  her,  then  of  course  she  is  not  worthless." 

"  Well,  not  worthless,  that  was  only  my  way  of  put- 
ting: it;  but  still....  " 


336  YOUTH 

"  There  's  no  *  but  still '  about  it,"  broke  in  Liubotchka, 
with  warmth.  "  I  did  n't  say  that  the  young  lady  you 
are  in  love  with  was  worthless.  How  can  you  say  it 
about  papa  and  an  excellent  woman,  even  if  you  are  my 
eldest  brother  ?  Don't  say  that  to  me ;  you  must  not 
say  it, 

"And  why  can't  one  judge...." 

"  Such  a  father  as  ours  must  not  be  judged,"  inter- 
rupted Liubotchka  again.  "  Mimi  may  judge,  but  not 
you,  my  eldest  brother." 

"  No,  you  understand  nothing  about  it  yet,"  said 
Volodya,  contemptuously.  "  Listen.  Is  it  a  good  thing 
that  some  Epifanova,  DunitcJika,  should  take  the  place 
of  your  dead  mother  .-*  " 

Liubotchka  remained  silent  for  a  minute,  and  then  all 
at  once  tears  rose  to  her  eyes. 

"  I  knew  that  you  were  proud,  but  I  did  not  know 
that  you  were  so  wicked,"  said  she,  and  left  us. 

"  V  btilkiL  .^"  1  said  Volodya,  pulling  a  gravely  comical 
face,  and  with  troubled  eyes.  "Just  try  to  argue  with 
them,"  he  went  on,  as  though  reproaching  himself  for 
having  forgotten  himself  to  such  a  degree  as  to  make 
up  his  mind  to  condescend  to  a  conversation  with  Liu- 
botchka. 

The  weather  was  bad  on  the  following  day,  and 
neither  papa  nor  the  ladies  had  come  down  for  their  tea 
when  I  entered  the  drawing-room.  There  had  been  a 
cold  autumnal  rain  during  the  night ;  the  remains  of  the 
clouds,  which  had  emptied  themselves  over  night,  were 
still  flying  through  the  sky  ;  the  sun,  which  had  already 
risen  quite  high,  shone  dimly  through  them,  and  was 
designated  by  a  bright  circle.  It  was  windy,  damp,  and 
cold.  The  door  was  open  into  the  garden  ;  pools  of  the 
night  rain  were  drying  off  the  pavement  of  the  terrace, 
which  was  black  with  moisture.  The  wind  was  swinging 
the  open  door  back  and  forth  on  its  hinges  ;  the  paths 
were  damp  and  muddy  ;  the  old  birches,  with  their  bare 
white  boughs,  the  bushes  and  the  grass,  the  nettles,  the 
currants,   the   elder,    with    the    pale    side  of   its  leaves 

^  Nonsense  in  the  secret  jargon  explained  in  Chap.  XXIX.  —  Tr. 


YOUTH 


337 


turned  out,  struggled  each  on  its  own  spot,  and  seemed 
to  want  to  tear  themselves  from  their  roots ;  round 
yellow  leaves  flew,  whirling  and  chasing  each  other,  from 
the  linden-alley,  and,  as  they  became  wet  through,  spread 
themselves  on  the  wet  road,  and  on  the  damp,  dark 
green  aftermath  of  the  meadow.  My  thoughts  were 
occupied  with  my  father's  second  marriage,  from  the 
point  of  view  from  which  Volodya  had  looked  at  it. 
The  future  of  my  sister,  our  future,  and  even  that  of  my 
father,  promised  nothing  good  to  me.  I  was  troubled 
by  the  thought  that  an  outsider,  a  stranger,  and,  most 
of  all,  z.yowig  woman,  who  had  no  right  to  it,  should  all 
at  once  take  the  place,  in  many  respects,  —  of  whom  .-* 
She  was  a  simple  yoimg  lady,  and  she  was  taking  the 
place  of  my  dead  mother  !  I  was  sad,  and  my  father 
seemed  to  me  more  and  more  guilty.  At  that  moment 
I  heard  his  voice  and  Volodya's  talking  in  the  butler's 
pantry.  I  did  not  want  to  see  my  father  just  at  that 
moment,  and  I  passed  out  through  the  door ;  but  Liu- 
botchka  came  for  me,  and  said  that  papa  was  asking 
for  me. 

I^e  was  standing  in  the  drawing-room,  resting  one 
ha-*5id  on  the  piano,  and  gazing  in  my  direction  impa- 
titlSidy,  and  at  the  same  time  triumphantly.  That 
expression  of  youth  and  happiness  which  I  had  observed 
upon  his  face  during  all  this  period  was  not  there  now. 
He  looked  troubled.  Volodya  was  walking  about  the 
room  with  a  pipe  in  his  hand.  I  went  up  to  my  father, 
and  said  good-morning  to  him. 

"  Well,  my  friends,"  he  said,  with  decision,  as  he 
raised  his  head,  and  in  that  peculiar,  brisk  tone  in  which 
palpably  disagreeable  things,  which  it  is  too  late  to 
judge,  are  spoken  of,  "  you  know,  I  think,  that  I  am 
going  to  marry  Avdotya  Vasilievna."  (He  remained 
silent  for  a  while.)  "  I  never  wanted  to  marry  after 
your  mamma,  but  "  —  (he  paused  for  a  moment)  "  but  — 
but  it  's  evidently  fate.  Dunitchka  is  a  dear,  kind  girl, 
and  no  longer  very  young.  I  hope  you  will  love  her, 
children  ;  and  she  already  loves  you  heartily,  and  she  is 
good.     Now,"  he  said,  turning  to  me  and  Volodya,  and 


338  YOUTH 

apparently  making  haste  to  speak,  lest  we  should  suo 
ceed  in  interrupting,  "it's  time  for  you  to  leave  here; 
but  I  shall  remain  until  the  new  year,  when  I  shall  come 
to  Moscow"  (again  he  hesitated)  "with  my  wife  and 
Liubotchka."  It  pained  me  to  see  my  father  seem  so 
timid  and  guilty  before  us,  and  I  stepped  up  closer  to 
him  ;  but  Volodya  continued  to  smoke,  and  paced  the 
room  with  drooping  head.  "  So,  my  friends,  this  is 
what  your  old  man  has  devised,"  concluded  papa,  as  he 
blushed  and  coughed,  and  pressed  Volodya's  hand  and 
mine.  There  were  tears  in  his  eyes  when  he  said  it ; 
and  I  observed  that  the  hand  which  he  extended  to 
Volodya,  who  was  at  the  other  end  of  the  room  at  the 
moment,  trembled  a  little.  The  sight  of  this  trembling 
hand  impressed  me  painfully,  and  a  strange  thought 
occurred  to  me,  and  touched  me  still  more  :  the  thought 
came  to  me  that  papa  had  served  in  the  year  '12,  and 
had  been  a  brave  officer,  as  was  well  known.  I  retained 
his  large,  muscular  hand,  and  kissed  it.  He  pressed 
mine  vigorously ;  and,  gulping  down  his  tears,  he  sud- 
denly took  Liubotchka's  black  head  in  both  hands,  and 
began  to  kiss  her  on  the  eyes.  Volodya  pretended  to 
drop  his  pipe ;  and,  stooping  over,  he  slyly  wiped  jhis 
eyes  with  his  fist,  and  left  the  room,  making  an  eifrjrt 
to  do  so  unobserved. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

THE    UNIVERSITY 

The  wedding  was  to  take  place  in  two  weeks;  but  our 
lectures  had  begun,  and  Volodya  and  I  went  back  to 
Moscow  at  the  beginning  of  September.  The  Nekhliu- 
doffs  had  also  returned  from  the  country.  Dmitry  (we 
had  promised,  when  we  parted,  to  write  to  each  other,  and 
of  course  we  had  not  done  so  a  single  time)  immediately 
came  to  me,  and  we  decided  that,  on  the  following 
day,  he  should  take  me  to  the  university  for  my  first 
lecture. 


YOUTH 


339 


It  was  a  brilliant,  sunny  day. 

As  soon  as  I  entered  the  auditorium,  I  felt  that  my 
personality  disappeared  in  this  throng  of  gay  young 
fellows  which  undulated  noisily  through  all  the  doors 
and  corridors  in  the  brilliant  sunlight.  The  sensation 
of  knowing  that  I  was  a  member  of  this  large  company 
was  very  pleasant.  But  very  few  among  all  these  indi- 
viduals were  known  to  me,  and  the  acquaintance  was 
limited  to  a  nod  of  the  head,  and  the  words,  "  How  are 
you,  Irteneff  .^"  But,  all  around  me,  they  were  shaking 
hands  with  each  other  and  chatting,  —  words  of  friend- 
ship, smiles,  good-will,  jests,  showered  from  all  quarters. 
Everywhere  I  was  conscious  of  the  bond  which  united 
all  this  youthful  company,  and  I  felt  sadly  that  this 
bond  had  rnissed  me  in  some  way.  But  this  was  only 
a  momentary  impression.  In  consequence  of  this  and 
of  the  vexation  thereby  engendered,  on  the  contrary,  I 
even  discovered  very  speedily  that  it  was  a  very  good 
thing  that  I  did  not  belong  to  this  <??//r/  society  ;  that 
I  must  have  my  own  little  circle  of  nice  people ;  and  I 
seated  myself  on  the  third  bench,  where  sat  Count  B., 
Baron  Z.,  Prince  R.,  Ivin,  and  other  gentlemen  of  that 
class,  of  whom  I  knew  only  Ivin  and  the  count.  But 
those  gentlemen  stared  at  me  in  a  way  which  made  me 
feel  that  I  did  not  belong  to  their  social  set  at  all.  I 
set  about  observing  all  that  went  on  around  me.  Seme- 
noff,  with  his  gray,  rumpled  hair  and  his  white  teeth, 
and  with  his  coat  unbuttoned,  sat  not  far  from  me, 
propping  himself  up  on  his  elbows,  and  gnawing  at  a 
pen.  The  gymnasist,  who  had  stood  first  in  the  ex- 
amination, was  sitting  upon  the  first  bench,  with  his 
cheek  still  bound  up  in  the  black  neckcloth,  and  play- 
ing with  a  silver  watch-key  upon  his  satin  vest.  Ikonin, 
who  had  got  into  the  university,  was  seated  on  the  high- 
est bench,  in  blue  trousers  with  spring  bottoms,  laugh- 
ing and  shouting  that  he  was  on  Parnassus.  Ilinka, 
who,  to  my  amazement,  saluted  me  not  only  coldly,  but 
even  scornfully,  as  if  desirous  of  reminding  me  that  we 
were  all  equal  here,  seated  himself  in  front  of  me,  and, 
putting  up  his  thin  legs  upon  the  bench  in  a  particularly 


340 


YOUTH 


free  and  easy  way  (for  my  benefit,  as  it  seemed  to  me), 
chatted  with  another  student,  and  glanced  at  me  now 
and  then. 

The  Ivin  party  beside  me  conversed  in  French.  These 
gentlemen  seemed  to  me  frightfully  stupid.  Every  word 
of  their  conversation  which  I  overheard  not  only  seemed 
to  me  senseless  but  incorrect,  simply  not  French  at  all 
("  Ce  n  est  pas  franqais,''  I  said  to  myself  in  my  own 
mind);  and  the  attitudes,  speeches,  and  behavior  of 
Semenoff,  Ilinka,  and  others  seemed  to  me  ignoble, 
ungentlemanly,  not  cointne  il  fmtt. 

I  did  not  belong  to  any  company ;  and,  conscious  of 
my  isolation,  and  my  unfitness  for  making  approaches, 
I  became  angry.  One  student  on  the  bench  in  front 
of  me  was  biting  his  nails,  which  were  all  red  with 
hangnails  ;  and  this  seemed  so  revolting  to  me  that  I 
even  moved  my  seat  farther  away  from  him.  But  in 
my  inmost  soul  I  remember  that  this  first  day  was  a 
very  doleful  one  for  me. 

When  the  professor  entered,  and  all  began  to  rustle 
about,  and  then  became  silent,  I  remember  that  I 
extended  my  satirical  view  of  things  to  the  professor, 
and  I  was  surprised  that  the  professor  should  begin  his 
lecture  with  an  introductory  phrase  which  had  no  sense, 
according  to  my  opinion.  I  wanted  the  lecture  to  be  so 
wise  from  beginning  to  end  that  nothing  could  be  cut 
out  nor  a  single  word  added  to  it.  Having  been  un- 
deceived in  this  respect,  I  immediately  sketched  eigh- 
teen profiles,  joined  together  in  a  circle  like  a  wreath, 
under  the  heading,  "  First  Lecture,"  inscribed  in  the 
handsomely  bound  note-book  which  I  had  brought  with 
me,  and  only  moved  my  hand  across  the  paper  now  and 
then  so  that  the  professor  (who,  I  was  convinced,  was 
paying  a  great  deal  of  attention  to  me)  might  think  that 
I  was  writing.  Having  decided,  during  this  same  lec- 
ture, that  it  was  not  necessary  to  write  down  everything 
that  every  professor  said,  and  that  it  would  even  be 
stupid  to  do  so,  I  kept  to  that  rule  during  the  whole 
of  my  course. 

At  the  succeeding  lectures  I  did  not  feel  my  isolation 


YOUTH  341 

so  strongly  ;  I  made  many  acquaintances,  shook  hands 
and  chatted  :  but  for  some  reason  or  other  no  real  union 
took  place  between  me  and  my  comrades,  and  it  still 
frequently  happened  that  I  was  sad,  and  that  I  dissimu- 
lated. I  could  not  join  the  company  of  Ivin  and  the 
aristocrats,  as  they  were  called,  because,  as  I  now 
remember,  I  was  shy  and  rude  with  them,  and  only 
bowed  to  them  when  they  bowed  to  me  ;  and  they 
evidently  had  very  little  need  of  my  acquaintance.  But 
this  took  place  for  a  very  different  reason  with  the 
majority.  As  soon  as  I  was  conscious  that  a  comrade 
was  beginning  to  be  favorably  inclined  toward  me,  I 
immediately  gave  him  to  understand  that  I  dined  at 
Prince  Ivan  Ivanitch's,  and  that  I  had  a  drozhky.  All 
this  I  said  simply  for  the  sake  of  showing  myself  off  in 
a  more  favorable  light,  and  in  order  that  my  comrade 
might  love  me  all  the  more ;  but,  in  almost  every  in- 
stance, on  the  contrary,  to  my  amazement,  my  comrade 
suddenly  became  proud  and  cold  toward  me  in  con- 
sequence of  the  news  of  my  relationship  with  Prince 
Ivan. 

We  had  among  us  a  student  maintained  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  crown,  Operoff,  a  modest,  extremely  capa- 
ble, and  zealous  young  man,  who  always  gave  his  hand 
to  every  one  like  a  board,  without  bending  his  fingers 
or  making  any  movement  with  it,  so  that  the  jesters 
among  his  comrades  sometimes  shook  hands  with  him 
in  the  same  way,  and  called  it  shaking  hands  "like  a 
shingle."  I  almost  always  sat  beside  him,  and  we 
frequently  conversed.  Operoff  pleased  me  particu- 
larly by  the  free  opinions  about  the  professors  to  which 
he  gave  utterance.  He  defined,  in  a  very  clear  and 
categorical  manner,  the  merits  and  defects  of  each 
professor's  instruction  ;  and  he  even  ridiculed  them 
sometimes,  which  produced  a  particularly  strange  and 
startling  effect  upon  me,  as  it  came  from  his  very  small 
mouth  in  his  quiet  voice.  Nevertheless,  he  carefully 
wrote  down  all  the  lectures,  without  exception,  in  his 
minute  hand.  We  had  begun  to  make  friends,  we  had 
decided  to  prepare  our  lessons  together,  and  his  small, 


342  YOUTH 

gray,  short-sighted  eyes  had  already  begun  to  turn  to  me 
with  pleasure,  when  I  went  and  seated  myself  beside 
him  in  my  own  place.  But  I  found  it  necessary  to 
explain  to  him  once,  in  the  course  of  conversation,  that 
when  my  mother  was  dying  she  had  begged  my  father 
not  to  send  us  to  any  institutions  supported  by  the 
crown,  and  that  all  crown  scholars,  though  they  might 
be  very  learned,  were  not  at  all  the  thing  for  me : 
"  Ce  ne  sont  pas  des  gens  comme  il  faiit,  —  They  are 
not  genteel,"  said  I,  stammering,  and  conscious  that  I 
blushed  for  some  reason  or  other.  Operoff  said  nothing 
to  me ;  but  at  succeeding  lectures  he  did  not  greet  me 
first,  did  not  give  me  his  "shingle,"  did  not  address  me, 
and  when  I  seated  myself  in  my  place  he  bent  his  head 
sideways  on  his  finger  away  from  the  books,  and  pre- 
tended that  he  was  not  looking  on.  I  was  surprised  at 
Operoff's  causeless  coldness.  But  I  considered  it  im- 
proper for  a  young  man  of  good  birth — pour  iin  jemie 
homme  de  bonne  maison  —  to  coax  the  crown  student 
Operoff ;  and  I  left  him  in  peace,  although  his  coolness 
grieved  me,  I  must  confess.  Once  I  arrived  earlier 
than  he,  and  as  the  lecture  was  by  a  favorite  professor, 
and  the  students  who  were  not  in  the  habit  of  attend- 
ing lectures  had  flocked  to  it,  and  all  the  seats  were 
occupied,  I  sat  down  in  Operoff's  place,  laid  my  note- 
books on  the  desk,  and  went  out.  On  my  return  to 
the  auditorium  I  was  surprised  to  find  my  note-books 
removed  to  the  rear  bench,  and  Operoff  seated  in  his 
own  place.  I  remarked  to  him  that  I  had  laid  my 
books  there. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  retorted,  suddenly  flaring  up,  and 
not  glancing  at  me. 

"  I  tell  you  that  I  placed  my  books  there,"  said  I, 
purposely  beginning  to  get  heated,  and  thinking  to 
frighten  him  with  my  boldness.  "  Everybody  saw  it," 
I  added,  glancing  round  at  the  students  ;  but,  although 
many  of  them  looked  at  me  with  curiosity,  no  one 
replied. 

"  Places  are  not  purchased  here  ;  the  one  who  comes 
first  takes  his  seat,"  said  Operoff,  settling  himself  an- 


YOUTH  343 

grily  in  his  place,  and  casting  a  fleeting  and  agitated 
glance  upon  me. 

"That  means  that  you  are  ill-bred,"  said  I. 

It  seemed  as  though  Operoff  muttered  something  ;  it 
even  seemed  as  though  he  muttered  that  I  was  "a 
stupid  little  boy,"  but  I  certainly  did  not  hear  it.  And 
what  would  have  been  the  good  if  I  heard  it .-'  should  we 
revile  each  other  like  rustic  louts  .-*  (I  was  very  fond  of 
the  word  matiant,  and  it  served  me  as  an  answer  and 
a  solution  in  many  a  complicated  affair.)  Perhaps  I 
might  have  said  something  more  ;  but  just  then  the 
door  slammed,  and  the  professor,  in  his  blue  frock-coat, 
hastily  entered  his  desk  with  a  bow  and  a  scrape  of  his 
foot. 

However,  when  I  needed  the  note-books,  before  the 
examinations,  Operoff,  remembering  his  promise,  offered 
me  his,  and  invited  me  to  study  them  with  him. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII 

AFFAIRS    OF    THE   HEART 

Affairs  of  the  heart  engrossed  my  attention  a  good 
deal  in  the  course  of  the  winter.  I  was  in  love  three 
times.  Once  I  fell  passionately  in  love  with  a  very 
plump  lady  who  rode  in  the  Freytag  riding-school,  in 
consequence  of  which  I  went  to  the  school  every  Tues- 
day and  Friday  —  the  days  on  which  she  rode  —  in  order 
to  gaze  at  her;  but  on  every  occasion  I  was  so  much 
afraid  that  she  would  see  me,  and  for  that  reason  I 
always  stood  so  far  away  from  her,  and  fled  so  precip- 
itately from  the  place  where  she  had  to  pass  through, 
and  turned  aside  so  negligently  when  she  glanced  in  my 
direction,  that  I  did  not  even  get  a  good  look  at  her 
face,  and  to  this  day  I  do  not  know  whether  she  was 
actually  pretty  or  not. 

Dubkoff,  who  was  acquainted  with  this  lady,  once 
caught  me  at  the  school  hiding  behind  a  footman  and 
the   fur   cloaks    which    he    was   carrying;    and    having 


344  YOUTH 

learned  of  my  passion  from  Dmitry,  he  so  frightened 
me  with  a  proposal  to  introduce  me  to  this  amazon,  that 
I  fled  headlong  from  the  place ;  and  the  very  idea  that 
he  had  told  her  about  me  prevented  my  ever  daring  to 
enter  the  school  again,  even  as  far  as  the  lackeys*  place, 
from  the  fear  of  meeting  her. 

When  I  was  in  love  with  strangers,  and  especially 
with  married  women,  I  was  overwhelmed  with  a  shyness 
which  was  a  thousand  times  more  powerful  than  that 
which  I  had  experienced  in  Sonitchka's  case.  I  feared, 
more  than  anything  else  in  the  world,  that  the  object 
of  my  love  would  discover  it,  and  even  my  existence. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  if  she  heard  of  the  sentiments 
which  I  entertained  toward  her,  it  would  be  such  an 
insult  to  her  that  she  would  never  be  able  to  forgive 
me.  And,  in  fact,  if  that  lady-rider  had  known  in  detail 
how,  when  I  peeped  at  her  from  behind  the  lackeys, 
I  meditated  seizing  her,  and  carrying  her  off  to  the 
country,  and  how  I  was  going  to  live  there  with  her, 
and  what  I  was  going  to  do,  she  might  perhaps  with 
justice  have  felt  very  much  insulted.  But  I  could  not 
clearly  imagine  that  if  she  knew  me  she  would  not  also 
instantly  know  all  my  thoughts,  and  that  therefore 
there  was  nothing  disgraceful  in  simply  making  her 
acquaintance. 

I  fell  in  love  again  with  Sonitchka  when  I  saw  her 
with  my  sister.  My  second  love  for  her  had  passed 
away  long  ago ;  but  I  fell  in  love  for  the  third  time, 
because  Liubotchka  gave  me  a  volume  of  verses  which 
Sonitchka  had  copied,  in  which  many  gloomily  amorous 
passages  from  Lermontoff' s  "  Demon  "  were  underlined 
in  red  ink,  and  had  flowers  laid  in  to  mark  them.  Re- 
calling how  Volodya  had  kissed  his  lady-love's  little 
purse  the  year  before,  I  tried  to  do  the  same ;  and  in 
fact,  when,  alone  in  my  room  in  the  evening,  I  fell  into 
reveries,  and  pressed  my  lips  to  the  flowers  as  I  gazed 
upon  them,  I  was  conscious  of  a  certain  agreeably  tear- 
ful sentiment,  and  was  in  love  again,  or  at  least  fancied 
I  was,  for  several  days. 

And,  finally,  I  fell  in  love  for  the  third  time  that 


YOUTH  345 

winter,  with  the  young  lady  with  whom  Volodya  was  in 
love,  and  who  visited  at  our  house.  As  I  now  recall 
that  young  lady,  there  was  nothing  pretty  about  her, 
and  nothing  of  that  particular  beauty  which  generally 
pleased  me.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  well-known 
intellectual  and  learned  lady  of  Moscow  ;  she  was  small, 
thin,  with  long  blond  curls  of  English  fashion,  and  a 
transparent  profile.  Everybody  said  this  young  lady 
was  more  clever  and  learned  than  her  mother ;  but  I 
could  form  no  judgment  whatever  on  this  point,  for, 
feeling  a  kind  of  passion-fraught  terror  at  the  thought 
of  her  cleverness  and  learning,  I  only  spoke  to  her  once, 
and  that  with  inexpressible  trepidation.  But  the  ecstasy 
of  Volodya,  who  was  never  restrained  by  the  presence 
of  others  in  the  expression  of  his  raptures,  was  com- 
municated to  me  with  such  force  that  I  fell  passionately 
in  love  with  the  young  woman.  As  I  felt  that  the 
news  that  two  brotJiers  ivere  in  love  ivith  the  same  young 
woman  would  not  be  agreeable  to  Volodya,  I  did  not 
mention  my  love  to  him.  But,  on  the  contrary,  what 
afforded  me  the  greatest  satisfaction  in  this  sentiment 
was  that  our  love  was  so  pure  that,  although  its  object 
was  one  and  the  same  charming  being,  we  should  re- 
main friends,  and  ready,  should  the  emergency  occur, 
to  sacrifice  ourselves  for  each  other.  It  appeared,  how- 
ever, with  regard  to  the  readiness  for  sacrifice,  that 
Volodya  did  not  share  my  feeling  at  all ;  for  he  was  so 
passionately  enamoured,  that  he  wanted  to  slap  a  genuine 
diplomat's  face,  and  challenge  him  to  a  duel,  because  he 
was  to  marr)'^  her,  as  it  was  said.  It  was  very  agreeable 
to  me  to  sacrifice  my  feelings,  probably  because  it  cost 
me  no  great  effort,  so  that  I  only  spoke  to  the  young 
lady  once,  and  that  in  a  fantastic  kind  of  way,  about  the 
worth  of  scientific  music  ;  and  my  love  passed  away  on 
the  following  week,  as  I  made  no  endeavor  to  cherish  it, 


346  YOUTH 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII 

THE    WORLD 

The  worldly  pleasures  to  which  I  had  dreamed  of  de- 
voting myself  when  I  entered  the  university,  in  imita- 
tion of  my  elder  brother,  quite  disenchanted  me  during 
the  winter.  Volodya  danced  a  great  deal,  papa  also 
went  to  balls  with  his  young  wife  ;  but  they  must  have 
considered  me  still  too  youthful  or  unfitted  for  such 
pleasures,  and  no  one  introduced  me  in  those  houses 
where  balls  were  given.  In  spite  of  my  promise  of 
frankness  to  Dmitry,  I  did  not  speak  to  any  one,  even 
to  him,  of  my  desire  to  go  to  balls,  and  of  how  it  pained 
and  vexed  me  that  I  was  forgotten,  and  evidently  re- 
garded as  a  philosopher,  which  I  pretended  to  be  in 
consequence. 

But,  in  the  course  of  the  winter.  Princess  Kornakoff 
had  an  evening  party.  She  invited  all  of  us  herself, 
and  me  among  the  rest ;  and  I  was  to  go  to  a  ball  for 
the  first  time.  Volodya  came  to  my  room  before  he 
set  out,  and  wanted  to  see  how  I  was  dressed.  This 
proceeding  on  his  part  greatly  surprised  and  abashed 
me.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the  desire  to  be  well  dressed 
was  very  disgrs-ceful,  and  that  it  was  necessary  to  con- 
ceal it ;  he,  on  the  other  hand,  considered  this  desire 
natural  and  indispensable  to  such  a  degree,  that  he  said 
very  frankly  that  he  was  afraid  I  should  do  myself  dis- 
credit. He  ordered  me  to  be  sure  to  don  varnished 
shoes,  and  was  horror-struck  when  I  wanted  to  put  on 
chamois-leather  gloves,  arranged  my  watch  for  me  in  a 
particular  way,  and  carried  me  off  to  the  hair-dresser's 
on  the  Kuznetzky  Most.  They  curled  my  hair :  Vo- 
lodya stepped  off,  and  viewed  me  from  a  distance. 

"There,  that's  good,  but  can't  you  flatten  down  the 
hair  where  it  parts  on  the  crown  .-* "  he  said,  turning  to 
the  hair-dresser. 

But,  in  spite  of  all  M.  Charles's  anointing  of  my  tuft 
with  some  gummy  essence,  it  stood  up  the  same  as  ever 


YOUTH  347 

when  I  put  on  my  hat ;  and  altogether  my  appearance 
when  curled  seemed  to  me  much  uglier  even  than  before. 
My  only  salvation  was  an  affectation  of  negligence.  Only 
in  this  way  was  my  exterior  at  all  presentable. 

Volodya,  it  appears,  was  of  the  same  opinion,  for  he 
begged  me  to  get  rid  of  the  curls  ;  and  when  I  had  done 
this,  and  still  did  not  look  well,  he  did  not  glance  at  me 
again,  and  was  silent  and  gloomy  all  the  way  to  the 
Kornakoffs'  house. 

I  entered  the  Kornakoffs'  apartments  boldly  with  Vo- 
lodya ;  but  when  the  princess  invited  me  to  dance,  and 
I  said,  for  some  reason  or  other,  that  I  did  not  dance, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  I  had  come  with  the  sole  idea 
of  dancing  a  very  great  deal,  I  grew  timid  ;  and  when  I 
was  left  alone  with  people  whom  I  did  not  know,  I 
lapsed  into  my  ordinary  insurmountable  and  ever  in- 
creasing shyness.  I  stood  dumb  in  one  place  the  entire 
evening. 

During  a  waltz,  one  of  the  princesses  came  up  to 
me  and,  with  the  official  amiability  which  was  common 
to  the  entire  family,  asked  me  why  I  was  not  dancing. 
I  remember  hovv?  shy  I  grew  at  this  question,  but  how, 
at  the  same  time,  and  quite  involuntarily  so  far  as  I  was 
concerned,  a  self-satisfied  smile  spread  over  my  coun- 
tenance, and  I  began  to  utter  such  nonsense  in  pom- 
pous French  full  of  parentheses,  that  it  makes  me 
ashamed  to  remember  it  now  after  the  lapse  of  ten 
years.  The  music  must  have  thus  acted  upon  me,  ex- 
citing my  nerves,  and  drowning,  as  I  supposed,  the  not 
very  intelligible  portion  of  my  speech.  I  said  some- 
thing about  the  highest  society,  about  the  frivolity  of 
men  and  women  ;  and  at  last  I  got  so  entangled  that  I 
came  to  a  standstill  in  the  middle  of  a  word  in  some 
sentence  or  other,  which  there  was  no  possibility  of 
completing. 

Even  the  princess,  who  was  worldly  by  nature,  became 
confused,  and  gazed  reproachfully  at  me.  I  smiled.  At 
that  critical  moment,  Volodya,  who  had  perceived  that 
I  was  speaking  with  warmth,  and  probably  wanted  to 
know  how  I  was  making  up  for  not  dancing  by  my  con- 


348  YOUTH 

versation,  approached  us  with  Dubkoff.  On  perceiving 
my  smiling  face  and  the  frightened  mien  of  the  princess, 
and  hearing  the  frightful  stuff  with  which  I  wound  up, 
he  reddened,  and  turned  away.  The  princess  rose  and 
left  me.  I  went  on  smiling,  but  suffered  so  much  from 
the  consciousness  of  my  stupidity,  that  I  was  ready  to 
sink  through  the  earth,  and  I  felt  the  necessity  of  mak- 
ing some  movement,  at  any  cost,  and  of  saying  some- 
thing to  effect  some  change  in  my  position.  I  went  up 
to  Dubkoff,  and  inquired  if  he  had  danced  many  waltzes 
with  Jier.  By  this  I  seemed  to  be  jesting  and  in  a 
merry  mood,  but  in  reality  I  was  beseeching  the  assis- 
tance of  that  very  Dubkoff  to  whom  I  had  shouted,  "  Si- 
lence !  "  during  the  dinner  at  Jahr's.  Dubkoff  pretended 
not  to  hear  me,  and  turned  aside.  I  approached  Volodya, 
and  said  with  an  effort,  and  trying  to  impart  a  jesting 
tone  to  my  voice,  "  Well,  how  now,  Volodya }  have  I 
got  myself  up  gorgeously !  "  But  Volodya  looked  at 
me  as  much  as  to  say,  "  You  don't  talk  like  that  to  me 
when  we  are  alone,"  and  he  walked  away  from  me  in 
silence,  evidently  fearing  that  I  should  still  get  into 
some  difficulty. 

"My  God  !  my  brother  also  deserts  me  !  "  I  thought. 

But,  for  some  reason,  I  had  not  the  strength  to  take 
my  departure.  I  stood  on  gloomily,  till  the  end  of  the 
evening,  in  one  place  ;  and  only  when  all  were  crowded 
into  the  anteroom  as  they  dispersed,  and  the  footman 
put  my  coat  upon  the  tip  of  my  hat,  so  that  it  tilted  up, 
I  laughed  in  a  sickly  way  through  my  tears,  and  said, 
without  addressing  any  one  in  particular,  "  How  pleasant 
it  is  !  —  Coinme  c'est  srracieux  !  " 


CHAPTER    XXXIX 

THE    CAROUSE 

Although  I  had  not  as  yet,  in  consequence  of 
Dmitry's  influence,  given  myself  up  to  the  usual  pleas- 
ures of  students,  which  are  called  carouses,  it  had  been 
my  lot  once,  during  the  course  of  this  winter,  to  take 


YOUTH  349 

part  in  such  merrymaking  ;  and  I  carried  away  with  me 
a  not  wholly  agreeable  impression.  This  is  the  way  it 
was. 

One  day,  during  a  lecture  at  the  beginning  of  the  year, 
Baron  Z.,  a  tall,  blond  young  man,  with  a  very  serious 
expression  upon  his  regular  features,  invited  us  all  to 
his  house  to  pass  an  evening  as  comrades  together.  All 
of  us  meant,  of  course,  all  the  members  of  our  class  who 
were  more  or  less  comine  il faut ;  among  whose  number, 
of  course,  neither  Grap  nor  Semenoff  nor  Operoff  were 
included,  nor  any  of  the  meaner  fellows.  Volodya 
smiled  contemptuously  when  he  heard  that  I  was  going 
to  a  carouse  of  first-year  men  ;  but  I  expected  great  and 
remarkable  pleasure  from  this  to  me  entirely  novel  mode 
of  passing  the  time,  and  I  was  at  Baron  Z.'s  punctually 
at  eight  o'clock,  —  the  hour  indicated. 

Baron  Z.,  in  a  white  vest  and  with  his  coat  unbut- 
toned, was  receiving  his  guests  in  the  brilliantly  lighted 
hall  and  drawing-room  of  the  small  house  in  which  his 
parents  dwelt  ;  they  had  given  up  the  state  apartments 
to  him  for  that  evening's  festivity.  In  the  corridor,  the 
heads  and  dresses  of  the  curious  maids  were  visible  ; 
and  in  the  butler's  pantry,  the  dress  of  a  lady,  whom  I 
took  to  be  the  baroness  herself,  flashed  by  once. 

The  guests  were  twenty  in  number,  and  were  all 
students,  with  the  exception  of  Herr  Frost,  who  had 
come  with  Ivin,  and  a  tall,  ruddy-complexioned  gentle- 
man in  plain  clothes  who  attended  to  the  banquet,  and 
who  was  known  to  everybody  as  a  relative  of  the  baron, 
and  a  former  student  at  the  University  of  Dorpat.  The 
overbrilliant  illumination,  and  the  usual  regal  decora- 
tion of  the  state  apartments,  produced  a  chilling  effect 
at  first  upon  this  youthful  company,  all  of  whose  mem- 
bers involuntarily  kept  close  to  the  walls,  with  the  ex. 
ception  of  a  few  bold  spirits  and  the  student  from  Dorpat, 
who  had  already  unbuttoned  his  waistcoat,  and  seemed 
to  be  in  every  room  and  in  every  corner  of  every  room 
at  one  and  the  same  time,  and  to  fill  the  whole  apart- 
ment with  the  sound  of  his  resonant  and  agreeable  and 
never  silent  tenor  voice.     But  most  of  the  fellows  either 


J50  YOUTH 

remained  silent  or  modestly  discussed  the  professors, 
the  sciences,  the  examinations,  and  serious  and  interest- 
ing subjects,  on  the  whole.  Every  one,  without  excep- 
tion, stared  at  the  door  of  the  supper-room,  and  wore  the 
expression  which  said,  though  they  strove  to  hide  it, 
"  Why,  it  's  time  to  begin  !  "  I  also  felt  that  it  was  time 
to  begin,  and  I  awaited  the  beginning  with  impatient 
joy. 

After  tea,  which  the  footman  handed  round  to  the 
guests,  the  Dorpat  student  asked  Frost  in  Russian  :  — 

"  Do  you  know  how  to  make  punch.  Frost .''  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  replied  Frost  in  German,  wriggling  his 
calves ;  but  the  Dorpat  student  again  addressed  him  in 
Russian  :  — 

"Then  set  about  it  "  (he  called  him  tJion,  as  a  fellow- 
student  at  Dorpat);  and  Frost  began  to  go  from  the 
drawing-room  to  the  butler's  pantry,  from  the  butler's 
pantry  to  the  drawing-room,  with  great  strides  of  his 
muscular  bandy  legs  ;  and  there  speedily  made  its  ap- 
pearance on  the  table  a  large  soup-tureen,  and  on  it,  by 
means  of  three  student-swords  laid  crosswise,  a  ten- 
pound  loaf  of  sugar.  During  this  time,  Baron  Z.  had 
kept  incessantly  approaching  all  the  guests,  who  were 
assembled  in  the  drawing-room,  and  saying  to  all,  with 
an  immovably  serious  face  and  in  almost  the  same  words, 
"  Come,  gentlemen,  let  us  mutually  drink  to  brotherhood 
in  student  fashion,  or  we  shall  have  no  comradeship  at 
all  in  our  class.  And  unbutton  your  coats,  or  take  them 
off  entirely,  as  he  has  done."  And,  in  fact,  the  Dorpat 
student,  after  taking  off  his  coat,  and  stripping  up  his 
white  shirt-sleeves  above  his  white  elbows,  and  planting 
his  feet  far  apart  in  a  decided  fashion,  had  already  set 
fire  to  the  rum  in  the  soup-tureen. 

"Put  out  the  lights,  gentlemen  !"  cried  the  Dorpat 
student  suddenly,  as  loudly  and  pleasantly  as  he  could 
have  done  if  we  had  all  shouted.  But  we  all  gazed 
silently  at  the  soup-tureen,  and  at  the  Dorpat  student's 
white  shirt,  and  all  felt  that  the  solemn  moment  had 
arrived. 

"  Extinguish  the   lights.   Frost ! "   cried   the    Dorpat 


YOUTH  351 

student  again,  and  in  German,  having  evidently  become 
too  much  heated.  Frost  and  all  the  rest  of  us  set  about 
extinguishing  the  candles.  All  was  dark  in  the  room, 
only  the  white  sleeves  and  the  hands  which  lifted  the 
loaf  of  sugar  on  the  swords  were  illuminated  by  the 
bluish  flame.  The  Dorpat  student's  loud  tenor  was  no 
longer  alone,  for  talking  and  laughter  proceeded  from 
every  quarter  of  the  room.  Many  took  off  their  coats 
(especially  those  who  had  fine  and  perfectly  clean  shirts). 
I  did  the  same,  and  understood  that  it  had  begun.  Al- 
though nothing  jolly  had  happefred  so  far,  I  was  firmly 
convinced  that  it  would  be  capital  when  we  had  drunk 
a  glass  of  the  beverage  which  had  been  prepared. 

The  beverage  was  a  success.  The  Dorpat  student 
poured  the  punch  into  glasses,  spotting  the  table  a  good 
deal  in  the  process,  and  shouted,  "  Now,  gentlemen,  go 
ahead !  "  And  when  we  took  a  full,  sticky  glass  in  our 
hands,  the  Dorpat  student  and  Frost  struck  up  a  Ger- 
man song,  in  which  the  exclamation  y?/c////^/  was  fre- 
quently repeated  ;  we  joined  in  discordantly,  began  to 
clink  our  glasses,  to  shout  something,  to  praise  the 
punch,  and  to  quaff  the  sweet,  strong  liquor  through 
our  hands  or  simply.  There  was  nothing  to  wait  for 
now,  therefore  the  carouse  was  in  full  swing.  I  had 
already  drunk  a  full  glass  of  punch,  they  poured  me 
another;  my  temples  began  to  throb,  the  fire  seemed 
crimson,  every  one  was  shouting  and  laughing  around 
me  :  but  still  it  not  only  did  not  seem  jolly,  but  I  was 
even  convinced  that  I,  and  every  one  else,  was  bored, 
and  that  I  and  the  others  considered  it  indispensable, 
for  some  reason  or  other,  to  pretend  that  it  was  very 
jolly.  The  only  one  who  could  not  have  been  dissim- 
ulating was  the  Dorpat  student.  He  grew  constantly 
redder  and  more  talkative,  filled  every  one's  empty  glass, 
and  spilled  more  and  more  on  the  table,  which  became 
all  sweet  and  sticky.  I  do  not  remember  in  just  what 
order  things  occurred,  but  I  recollect  that  I  was  awfully 
fond  of  Frost  and  the  Dorpat  student  that  evening, 
that  I  learned  a  German  song  by  heart,  and  kissed  them 
both  on  their  sweet  lips.     I  also  recollect  that  I  hated 


35^ 


YOUTH 


the  Dorpat  student  that  same  evening,  and  wanted  to 
fling  a  chair  at  him,  but  refrained.  I  recollect  that  in 
addition  to  the  consciousness  of  the  insubordination  oi 
all  my  limbs  which  I  had  experienced  at  Jahr's,  my 
head  ached  and  swam  so  that  evening  that  I  was  awfully 
afraid  I  was  going  to  die  that  very  minute.  I  also 
recollect  that  we  all  seated  ourselves  on  the  floor,  for 
some  reason  or  other,  flourished  our  arms  in  imitation 
of  oars,  sang  "Adown  dear  Mother  Volga,"  and  that, 
meantime,  I  was  thinking  that  it  was  not  at  all  neces- 
sary to  do  so.  Furthermore  I  recollect  that,  as  I  lay  on 
the  floor,  I  hooked  one  leg  around  the  other,  wrestled  in 
gipsy  fashion,  twisted  some  one's  neck,  and  thought 
that  it  would  not  have  happened  if  he  had  not  been 
drunk.  I  remember,  too,  that  we  had  supper,  and  drank 
something  else  ;  that  I  went  out  into  the  courtyard  to 
refresh  myself,  and  my  head  felt  cold  ;  and  that  I  noticed 
when  I  went  away  that  it  was  dreadfully  dark,  that  the 
step  of  my  drozhky  had  become  steep  and  slippery,  and 
that  it  was  impossible  to  hold  on  to  Kuzma,  because  he 
had  become  weak,  and  swayed  about  like  a  rag.  But  I 
remember  chiefly  that  in  the  course  of  the  evening  I 
constantly  felt  that  I  was  behaving  very  stupidly  in  feign- 
ing to  be  very  jolly,  to  be  very  fond  of  drinking  a  great 
deal,  and  did  not  think  of  being  drunk,  and  all  the  time 
I  felt  that  the  others  were  behaving  very  foolishly  in 
pretending  the  same.  It  seemed  to  me  that  it  was  dis- 
agreeable for  each  one  individually,  as  it  was  for  me ; 
but  as  each  supposed  that  he  alone  experienced  this  dis- 
agreeable sensation,  he  considered  himself  bound  to 
feign  gayety  in  order  not  to  interfere  with  the  general 
jollity.  Moreover,  strange  to  say,  I  felt  that  dissimula- 
tion was  incumbent  on  me  simply  because  three  bot- 
tles of  champagne  at  ten  rubles  apiece,  and  ten  bottles 
of  rum  at  four  rubles,  had  been  poured  into  the  soup- 
tureen,  which  amounted  to  seventy  rubles,  besides  the 
supper.  I  was  so  fully  convinced  of  this,  that  I  was 
very  much  surprised  the  next  day  at  the  lecture,  when 
my  comrades  who  had  been  at  Baron  Z.'s  not  only  were 
not  ashamed  to  mention  that  they  had  been  there,  but 


YOUTH  3S3 

talked  about  the  party  so  that  other  students  could  hear. 
They  said  that  it  was  a  splendid  carouse ;  that  the  Dor- 
pat  fellows  were  great  hands  at  these  things,  and  that 
twenty  men  had  drunk  forty  bottles  of  rum  between 
them,  and  that  many  had  been  left  for  dead  under  the 
tables.  I  could  not  understand  why  they  talked  about 
it,  and  even  lied  about  themselves. 


CHAPTER   XL 

FRIENDSHIP    WITH    THE    NEKHLIUDOFFS 

During  the  winter,  I  not  only  saw  a  great  deal  of 
Dmitry,  who  came  to  our  house  quite  frequently,  but  of 
all  his  family,  with  whom  I  began  to  associate. 

The  Nekhliudoffs,  the  mother,  aunt,  and  daughter, 
passed  all  their  evenings  at  home ;  and  the  princess 
liked  to  have  young  people  come  to  see  her  in  the  eve- 
ning, men  of  the  sort,  as  she  expressed  it,  who  were 
capable  of  passing  a  whole  evening  without  cards  and 
dancing.  But  there  must  have  been  very  few  such  men  ; 
for  I  rarely  met  any  visitors  there,  though  I  went  there 
nearly  every  evening.  I  became  accustomed  to  the 
members  of  this  family,  and  to  their  various  dispositions, 
and  had  already  formed  a  clear  conception  of  their 
mutual  relations.  I  became  accustomed  to  their  rooms 
and  furniture  ;  and  when  there  were  no  guests  I  felt 
myself  perfectly  at  my  ease,  except  on  the  occasions 
when  I  was  left  alone  in  the  room  with  Varenka.  It 
still  seemed  to  me  as  if,  because  not  a  very  pretty  girl, 
she  would  like  very  much  to  have  me  fall  in  love  with 
her.  But  even  this  agitation  began  to  pass  off.  She 
had  such  a  natural  appearance  of  not  caring  whether 
she  talked  to  me  or  to  her  brother,  or  Liubov  Sergieevna, 
that  I  acquired  the  habit  of  looking  upon  her  as  upon  a 
person  to  whom  it  was  not  at  all  either  disgraceful  or 
dangerous  to  show  the  pleasure  which  I  took  in  her 
society.  During  the  whole  period  of  my  acquaintance 
with  her,  she  seemed  to  me  on  different  days  very  ugly, 


354  YOUTH 

again  not  such  a  very  ugly  girl ;  but  never  once  did  I 
ask  myself  with  regard  to  her,  "Am  I  in  love  with  her, 
or  not  ?  "  I  sometimes  chanced  to  talk  directly  to  her, 
but  more  frequently  I  conversed  with  her  by  directing 
my  remarks  in  her  presence  to  Liubov  Sergieevna  or 
Dmitry,  and  this  last  method  gave  me  particular  pleas- 
ure. I  took  great  satisfaction  in  talking  before  her,  in 
listening  to  her  singing,  and  in  the  general  consciousness 
of  her  presence  in  the  room  where  I  was ;  but  the 
thought  as  to  what  my  relations  with  Varenka  would 
eventually  become,  and  dreams  of  sacrificing  myself  for 
my  friend  in  case  he  should  fall  in  love  with  my  sister, 
rarely  entered  my  head  now.  If  such  ideas  and  dreams 
did  occur  to  me,  I  unconsciously  strove  to  thrust  aside 
any  thought  of  the  future,  since  I  was  content  with  the 
present. 

In  spite,  however,  of  this  intimacy,  I  continued  to 
feel  it  my  imperative  duty  to  conceal  from  the  whole 
Nekhliudoff  society,  and  from  Varenka  in  particular,  my 
real  sentiments  and  inclinations  ;  and  I  endeavored  to 
show  myself  an  entirely  different  young  man  from 
what  I  was  in  reality,  and  such,  indeed,  as  I  could 
not  be  in  reality.  I  strove  to  appear  emotional;  I 
went  into  raptures,  I  groaned,  and  made  passionate 
gestures  when  anything  pleased  me  greatly,  and  at  the 
same  time  I  endeavored  to  seem  indifferent  to  every 
unusual  occurrence,  which  I  saw,  or  of  which  I  was 
told.  I  tried  to  appear  a  malicious  scorner  who  held 
nothing  sacred,  and  at  the  same  time  a  delicate  observer. 
I  tried  to  appear  logical  in  all  my  actions,  refined  and 
accurate  in  my  life,  and  at  the  same  time  a  person  who 
despised  all  material  things.  I  can  boldly  assert  that  I 
was  much  better  in  reality  than  the  strange  being  which 
I  endeavored  to  represent  as  myself ;  but,  nevertheless, 
and  represent  myself  as  I  would,  the  Nekhliudoffs  liked 
me,  and,  happily  for  me  as  it  turned  out,  did  not  be- 
lieve in  my  dissimulation.  Liubov  Sergieevna  alone, 
who,  it  seems,  regarded  me  as  a  great  egoist,  a  godless 
and  sneering  fellow,  did  not  like  me,  and  often  quarreled 
with  me,  got  into  a  rage,  and  amazed  me  with  her  broken 


YOUTH  355 

and  incoherent  phrases.  But  Dmitry  still  maintained 
the  same  strange  rather  than  friendly  relations  with  her, 
and  said  that  no  one  understood  her,  and  that  she  did 
him  a  very  great  deal  of  good.  His  friendship  with  her 
continued  to  be  a  grievance  to  his  family. 

Once  Varenka,  in  discussing  with  me  this  union 
which  was  so  incomprehensible  to  them  all,  explained 
it  thus  :  "  Dmitry  is  an  egoist.  He  is  too  proud,  and, 
in  spite  of  all  his  cleverness,  he  is  very  fond  of  praise 
and  admiration,  loves  to  be  first  always  ;  and  aunty,  in 
the  innocence  of  her  soul,  finds  herself  admiring  him  ; 
and  has  not  sufficient  tact  to  conceal  this  admiration 
from  him,  and  so  it  comes  to  pass  that  she  flatters,  only 
not  hypocritically,  but  in  earnest." 

I  remembered  this  judgment,  and,  on  examining  it 
afterwards  I  could  not  but  think  that  Varenka  was  very 
clever;  and  I  exalted  her  in  my  own  opinion  with 
satisfaction,  in  consequence.  This  sort  of  exaltation, 
in  consequence  of  the  intelligence  I  had  discovered  in 
her,  and  of  other  moral  qualities,  I  accomplished  with  a 
certain  stern  moderation,  though  with  satisfaction  ;  and 
I  never  went  into  ecstasies,  the  highest  point  of  that 
exaltation.  Thus,  when  Sophia  Ivanovna,  who  talked 
unweariedly  of  her  niece,  told  me  how,  when  Varenka 
was  a  child  in  the  country  four  years  before,  she  had 
given  all  her  clothes  and  shoes  to  the  peasant  children 
without  permission,  so  that  they  had  to  be  taken  away 
afterward,  I  did  not  at  once  accept  that  fact  as  worthy 
of  exalting  her  in  my  opinion,  but  I  mentally  ridiculed 
her  for  such  an  unpractical  view  of  things. 

When  there  were  guests  at  the  Nekhliudoffs',  and 
among  others  Volodya  and  Dubkoff,  I  retired  into  the 
background  in  a  self-satisfied  way,  and  with  a  certain 
calm  consciousness  of  power,  as  one  of  the  family  ;  did 
not  talk,  and  merely  listened  to  what  others  said.  And 
everything  that  was  said  seemed  to  me  so  incredibly 
stupid,  that  I  inwardly  wondered  how  such  an  intelli- 
gent, logical  woman  as  the  princess,  and  all  her  logical 
family,  could  listen  to  such  folly,  and  reply  to  it.  Had 
it  then  occurred  to  me  to  compare  what  others  said  with 


356 


YOUTH 


what  I  said  myself  when  I  was  alone,  I  should  certainly 
not  have  marveled  in  the  least.  I  should  have  mar- 
veled still  less  if  I  had  believed  that  the  members  of 
our  household  —  Avdotya  Vasilievna,  Liubotchka,  and 
Katenka  —  were  just  like  all  other  women,  and  no 
worse  than  any  others  ;  and  if  I  had  recalled  the  fact 
that  Dubkoff,  Katenka,  and  Avdotya  Vasilievna  had 
conversed  together  for  whole  evenings,  laughing  mer- 
rily ;  and  how,  on  nearly  every  occasion,  Dubkoff,  de- 
siring to  get  up  a  discussion  on  something,  recited, 
with  feeling,  the  verses,  "An  bmiqiiet  de  la  vie  infortuiie 
convive,'''^  or.  extracts  from  "The  Demon  ";2  and  what 
nonsense  they  talked,  on  the  whole,  and  with  how  much 
pleasure,  for  several  hours  together. 

When  there  were  visitors,  of  course  Varenka  paid  less 
attention  to  me  than  when  we  were  alone  ;  and  then  there 
was  none  of  that  music  or  reading  to  which  I  was  very 
fond  of  listening.  In  conversing  with  visitors,  she  lost 
what  was  for  me  her  chief  charm,  —  her  calm  delibera- 
tion and  simplicity.  I  remember  what  a  strange  sur- 
prise her  conversations  with  my  brother  Volodya,  about 
the  theater  and  the  weather,  were  to  me.  I  knew  that 
Volodya  avoided  and  despised  commonplaces  more  than 
anything  else  in  the  world  ;  Varenka,  also,  always  ridi- 
culed hypocritically  absorbing  discussions  about  the 
weather,  and  so  forth  :  then  why,  when  they  came  to- 
gether, did  they  constantly  utter  the  most  intolerable 
absurdities,  and  that,  too,  as  though  they  were  ashamed 
of  each  other }  I  went  into  a  private  rage  with  Varenka 
after  every  such  conversation,  ridiculed  the  visitors  on 
the  following  day,  but  took  still  greater  pleasure  in 
being  alone  in  the    Nekhliudoff   family  circle. 

At  all  events,  I  began  to  take  more  pleasure  in  being 
with  Dmitry  in  his  mother's  drawing-room  than  alone 
face  to  face  with  him. 

1  An  unfortunate  guest  at  the  banquet  of  life. 
'^  A.  celebrated  poem  by  Lermontoff.  —  Tr. 


YOUTH  357 

CHAPTER    XLI 

FRIENDSHIP    WITH    THE    NEKHLIUDOFFS    {c07ltiwied) 

Just  at  this  time,  my  friendship  with  Dmitry  hung 
by  a  hair.  I  had  begun  to  criticize  him  too  long  ago 
not  to  find  that  he  had  failings  ;  but,  in  our  early  youth, 
we  love  with  passion  only,  and  therefore  only  perfect 
people.  But  as  soon  as  the  mist  of  passion  begins,  little 
by  little,  to  decrease,  or  as  soon  as  the  clear  rays  of 
judgment  begin  involuntarily  to  pierce  it,  and  we  behold 
the  object  of  our  passion  in  his  real  aspect,  with  his 
merits  and  his  shortcomings,  the  shortcomings  alone 
strike  us  as  something  unexpected,  in  a  vivid  and  exag- 
gerated manner ;  the  feeling  of  attraction  toward  a 
novelty,  and  the  hope  that  it  is  not  utterly  impossible  in 
another  man,  encourage  us  not  only  to  coolness,  but  to 
repugnance  for  the  former  object  of  our  passion,  and  we 
desert  him  without  compunction,  and  hasten  forward  to 
seek  some  new  perfection.  If  it  was  not  precisely  this 
which  happened  to  me  in  my  connection  with  Dmitry, 
it  was  because  I  was  only  bound  to  him  by  an  obstinate, 
pedantic,  and  intellectual  affection,  rather  than  by  an 
affection  from  the  heart,  which  I  was  too  much  ashamed 
to  be  false  to.  We  were  bound,  moreover,  by  our  strange 
rule  of  frankness.  We  were  afraid  that,  if  we  parted, 
we  should  leave  too  much  in  each  other's  power  all  the 
moral  secrets  which  we  had  confided  to  each  other,  and 
of  which  some  were  dishonorable  to  us.  Besides,  our 
rule  of  frankness,  as  was  evident  to  us,  had  not  been 
kept  for  a  long  time  ;  and  it  embarrassed  us,  and  brought 
about  strange  relations  between  us. 

Almost  every  time  that  I  went  to  Dmitry  that  winter, 
I  found  with  him  his  comrade  in  the  university,  a  stu- 
dent named  Bezobyedoff,  with  whom  he  was  engaged. 
Bezobyedoff  was  a  small,  thin,  pock-marked  man,  with 
very  small  hands  which  were  covered  with  freckles,  and 
a  great  mass  of  unkempt  red  hair.  He  was  always  very 
ragged  and  dirty,   he   was  uncultivated,   and    he  even 


358  YOUTH 

studied  badly.  Dmitry's  relations  with  him  were,  like  his 
relations  with  Liubov  Sergieevna,  incomprehensible  to 
me.  The  sole  reason  why  he  could  have  selected  him 
from  among  all  his  comrades,  and  have  become  intimate 
with  him,  was  that  there  was  not  a  student  in  the  whole 
university  who  was  uglier  in  appearance  than  Bezobye- 
doff.  But  it  must  have  been  precisely  for  that  reason 
that  Dmitry  found  it  agreeable  to  exhibit  friendship 
for  him  in  spite  of  everybody.  In  his  whole  intercourse 
with  this  student,  the  haughty  sentiment  was  expressed  : 
"  It 's  nothing  to  me  who  you  are  ;  you  are  all  the  same 
to  me.     I  like  him,  and  of  course  he's  all  right." 

I  was  surprised  that  he  did  not  find  it  hard  to  put  a 
constant  constraint  upon  himself,  and  that  the  unfortu- 
nate Bezobyedoff  endured  his  awkward  position.  This 
friendship  did  not  please  me  at  all. 

Once  I  came  to  Dmitry  in  the  evening  for  the  pur- 
pose of  spending  the  evening  in  his  mother's  drawing- 
room  with  him,  in  conversation  and  in  listening  to  Va- 
renka's  singing  or  reading  ;  but  Bezobyedoff  was  sitting 
up-stairs.  Dmitry  replied  to  me  in  a  sharp  tone  that  he 
could  not  come  down  because  he  had  company,  as  I 
could  see  for  myself. 

"And  what  fun  is  there  there.?"  he  asked.  "It's 
much  better  to  sit  here  and  chat."  Although  the  idea 
of  sitting  and  talking  with  Bezobyedoff  for  a  couple  of 
hours  did  not  attract  me,  I  could  not  make  up  my  mind 
to  go  to  the  drawing-room  alone  ;  and,  vexed  to  the  soul 
at  my  friend's  eccentricity,  I  seated  myself  in  a  rocking- 
chair,  and  began  to  rock  in  silence.  I  was  very  much 
provoked  with  Dmitry  and  with  Bezobyedoff,  because 
they  had  deprived  me  of  the  pleasure  of  going  down- 
stairs. I  wanted  to  see  whether  Bezobyedoff  would  take 
his  departure  soon  ;  and  I  was  angry  with  him  and 
Dmitry  as  I  listened  in  silence  to  their  conversation. 
"  A  very  agreeable  guest !  sit  with  him  ! "  thought  I, 
when  the  footman  brought  tea,  and  Dmitry  had  to  ask 
Bezobyedoff  five  times  to  take  a  glass,  because  the  timid 
visitor  considered  himself  bound  to  decline  the  first  and 
second  glasses,  and  to  say,  "  Help  yourself."     Dmitry, 


YOUTH  359 

with  a  visible  effort,  engaged  his  visitor  in  conversation, 
into  which  he  made  several  vain  efforts  to  drag  me.  I 
preserved  a  gloomy  silence. 

"  There  's  no  use  in  making  such  a  face  ;  let  no  one 
dare  suspect  that  I  am  bored,"  I  addressed  myself  men- 
tally to  Dmitry,  as  I  rocked  myself  silently  and  regu- 
larly in  my  chair.  I  fanned  the  flame  of  quiet  hatred 
toward  my  friend  within  me  more  and  more.  "  What 
a  fool !  "  I  thought  of  him.  "  He  might  have  spent  a 
delightful  evening  with  his  dear  relations,  but  no,  he 
sits  here  with  this  beast ;  and  now  the  time  is  past,  it 
is  already  too  late  to  go  to  the  drawing-room;"  and  I 
peeped  at  my  friend  from  behind  the  edge  of  my  chair. 
His  hands,  his  attitude,  his  neck,  and  especially  the  nape 
of  it,  and  his  knees  seemed  so  repulsive  and  offensive 
that  I  could  have  taken  great  delight  at  that  moment  in 
doing  something  to  him,  even  something  extremely  dis- 
agreeable. 

At  length  Bezobyedoff  rose,  but  Dmitry  could  not  at 
once  part  from  so  agreeable  a  guest.  He  proposed  to 
him  that  he  should  spend  the  night  there  ;  to  which, 
fortunately,  Bezobyedoff  did  not  consent,  and  de- 
parted. 

After  having  seen  him  off,  Dmitry  returned ;  and 
smiling  brightly  in  a  self-satisfied  way,  and  rubbing 
his  hands,  probably  because  he  had  kept  up  his  char- 
acter, and  because  he  had  at  last  got  rid  of  his  cmuti, 
he  began  to  pace  the  room,  glancing  at  me  from  time 
to  time.  He  was  still  more  repulsive  to  me.  "  How 
dare  he  walk  and  smile  .'* "  thought  I. 

"  Why  are  you  angry  } "  said  he,  suddenly,  halting  in 
front  of  me. 

"  I  am  not  angry  at  all,"  I  answered,  as  one  always 
answers  on  such  occasions ;  "  I  am  only  vexed  that  you 
should  dissimulate  to  me  and  to  Bezobyedoff  and  to 
yourself." 

"What  nonsense  !  I  never  dissimulate  to  any  one." 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  our  rule  of  frankness  ;  I  speak 
openly  to  you.  I  am  convinced  that  that  Bezobyedoff 
is  as  intolerable  to  you  as  to  me,  because  he  is  stupid, 


36o  YOUTH 

and  God  knows  what  else  ;  but  you  like  to  put  on  airs 
before  him." 

"  No !  and,  in  the  first  place,  Bezobyedoff  is  a  very 
fine  man." 

"  And  I  tell  you,  yes  ;  I  will  even  go  so  far  as  to  say 
to  you  that  your  friendship  with  Liubov  Sergieevna  is 
also  founded  on  the  fact  that  she  considers  you  a  god." 

"And  I  tell  you,  no." 

"  But  I  tell  you,  yes,  because  I  know  it  by  my  own 
case,"  I  replied  with  the  warmth  of  suppre.ssed  vexa- 
tion, and  desirous  of  disarming  him  by  my  frankness. 
"  I  have  told  you,  and  I  repeat  it,  that  it  always  seems 
to  me  that  I  like  those  people  who  say  pleasant  things 
to  me ;  and  when  I  come  to  examine  the  matter  well, 
I  see  that  there  is  no  real  attachment." 

"  No,"  went  on  Dmitry,  adjusting  his  neckerchief  with 
an  angry  motion  of  the  neck  ;  "  when  I  love,  neither 
praise  nor  blame  can  change  my  feelings." 

"  It  is  not  true.  I  have  confessed  to  you  that  when 
papa  called  me  a  good-for-nothing,  I  hated  him  for  a 
while,  and  desired  his  death,  just  as  you ...." 

"  Speak  for  yourself.  It 's  a  great  pity  if  you  are 
such ...." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  I  cried,  springing  from  my  chair, 
and  looking  him  in  the  eye  with  desperate  bravery, 
"what  you  are  saying  is  not  right*;  did  you  not  tell  me 
about  my  brother  ?  I  will  not  remind  you  of  it,  because 
that  would  be  dishonorable.  Did  you  not  tell  me.... 
And  I  will  tell  you  how  I  understand  you  now...." 

And,  endeavoring  to  wound  him  even  more  painfully 
than  he  had  wounded  me,  I  began  to  demonstrate  to 
him  that  he  did  not  love  any  one,  and  to  tell  him  every- 
thing with  which,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  I  had  a  right  to 
reproach  him.  I  was  very  much  pleased  at  having  told 
him  everything,  quite  forgetting  that  the  only  possible 
object  of  this  exposition,  which  consisted  in  his  confess- 
ing the  shortcomings  with  which  I  charged  him,  could 
not  be  attained  at  the  present  moment,  when  he  was 
excited.  But  I  had  never  said  this  to  him  when  he 
was  in  a  state  of  composure,  and  could  acknowledge  it. 


YOUTH  361 

The  dispute  had  already  passed  into  a  quarrel,  when 
Dmitry  became  silent  all  at  once,  and  went  into  the 
next  room.  I  was  on  the  point  of  following  him,  talk- 
ing all  the  while,  but  he  did  not  reply  to  me.  I  knew 
that  violent  passion  was  set  down  in  his  list  of  vices, 
and  that  he  had  conquered  himself  now.  I  cursed  all 
his  inventories. 

So  this  was  to  what  our  rule  had  led  us  :  to  tell  each 
other  everything  that  zve  thought,  and  never  to  say  any- 
thing about  each  other  to  any  third  person.  Carried 
away  by  frankness,  we  had  sometimes  proceeded  to  the 
most  shameless  confessions,  announcing,  to  our  own 
shame,  ideas,  dreams  of  desire  and  sentiment,  such  as 
I  had  just  expressed  to  him,  for  example  ;  and  these 
confessions  not  only  had  not  drawn  closer  the  bond 
which  united  us,  but  they  had  dried  up  the  feeling 
itself,  and  separated  us.  And  now,  all  at  once,  egotism 
did  not  permit  him  to  make  the  most  trivial  confession  ; 
and  in  the  heat  of  our  dispute  we  made  use  of  the  very 
weapons  with  which  we  had  previously  supplied  each 
other,  and  which  dealt  frightfully  painful  blows. 

CHAPTER    XLII 

THE    STEPMOTHER 

Although  papa  had  not  meant  to  come  to  Moscow 
with  his  wife  until  after  the  New  Year,  he  arrived  in  Octo- 
ber, at  a  season  when  there  was  excellent  autumn  hunting 
to  be  had  with  the  dogs.  Papa  said  that  he  "had  changed 
his  plan  because  his  case  was  to  be  heard  in  the  senate ; 
but  Mimi  told  us  that  Avdotya  Vasilievna  had  become 
so  bored  in  the  country,  had  spoken  so  frequently  of 
Moscow,  and  feigned  illness,  that  papa  had  decided  to 
comply  with  her  wishes.  For  she  had  never  loved  hirn, 
but  had  only  murmured  her  love  in  everybody's  ears, 
out  of  a  desire  to  marry  a  rich  man,  said  Mimi,  sighing 
thoughtfully,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  It 's  not  what  some 
people,^  would  have  done  for  him,  if  he  had  but  known 
how  to  prize  them." 


262  YOUTH 

Some  /people  were  unjust  to  Avdotya  Vasilievna.  Her 
love  for  papa,  passionate,  devoted  love,  and  self-sacrifice, 
were  evident  in  every  word,  every  look,  and  every  move- 
ment. But  this  love  did  not  in  the  least  prevent  her 
cherishing  a  desire,  in  company  with  the  desire  not  to 
leave  her  husband,  for  remarkable  head-dresses  from 
Madame  Annette,  for  bonnets  with  extraordinary  blue 
ostrich-feathers,  and  gowns  of  blue  Venetian  velvet, 
that  artistically  revealed  her  fine  white  arms  and 
bosom,  which  had  hitherto  been  exhibited  to  no  one 
except  to  her  husband  and  dressing-maids.  Katenka 
took  her  mother's  part,  of  course  ;  while  between  our 
stepmother  and  us  certain  odd,  jesting  relations  estab- 
lished themselves  from  the  very  day  of  her  arrival.  As 
soon  as  she  alighted  from  the  carriage,  Volodya  went 
up,  scraping,  and  swaying  back  and  forth,  to  kiss  her 
hand,  having  assumed  a  grave  face  and  troubled  eyes, 
and  said,  as  though  he  were  introducing  some  one  :  — 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  offer  my  congratulations  on  the 
arrival  of  my  dear  mamma,  and  to  kiss  her  hand." 

"Ah,  my  dear  son!"  said  Avdotya  Vasilievna,  with 
her  beautiful,  monotonous  smile. 

"And  do  not  forget  your  second  little  son,"  said  I, 
also  approaching  to  kiss  her  hand,  and  involuntarily 
trying  to  assume  the  expression  of  Volodya's  face  and 
voice. 

If  our  stepmother  and  we  had  been  sure  of  our  mutual 
attachment,  this  expression  might  have  indicated  scorn 
of  the  exhibition  of  any  tokens  of  affection  ;  if  we  had 
already  been  ill-disposed  toward  each  other,  it  might 
have  indicated  irony,  or  scorn  of  hypocrisy,  or  a  desire 
to  conceal  our  real  relations  from  our  father,  who  was 
present,  and  many  other  thoughts  and  feelings ;  but  in 
the  present  case  this  expression,  which  suited  Avdotya 
Vasilievna's  taste  extremely  well,  indicated  nothing  at 
all,  and  only  pointed  to  an  utter  absence  of  all  relations. 
I  have  often  observed  these  false  and  jesting  relations 
since,  in  other  families,  where  the  members  of  them 
foresee  that  the  actual  relations  will  not  be  quite  agree- 
able ;  and  these  relations  involuntarily  established  them- 


YOUTH  2^3 

selves  between  us  and  Avdotya  Vasilievna.  We  hardly 
ever  departed  from  them  ;  we  were  always  hypocritically 
polite  to  her,  spoke  French,  scraped  and  bowed,  and 
called  her  "  c/iifr  mawan,"  to  which  she  always  replied 
with  jests,  in  the  same  style,  and  her  beautiful,  monoto- 
nous smile.  Tearful  Liubotchka  alone,  with  her  crooked 
legs  and  innocent  prattle,  took  a  liking  to  the  stepmother 
and  strove  very  naively,  and  sometimes  awkwardly,  to 
bring  her  into  closer  connection  with  all  our  family  ; 
and,  in  return,  the  only  creature  in  all  the  world  for 
whom  Avdotya  Vasilievna  had  a  drop  of  affection,  with 
the  exception  of  her  passionate  love  for  papa,  was  Liu- 
botchka. Avdotya  Vasilievna  even  exhibited  for  her  a 
certain  ecstatic  admiration  and  a  timid  respect,  which 
greatly  amazed  me. 

At  first  Avdotya  was  very  fond  of  calling  herself  a 
stepmother,  and  hinting  at  the  evil  and  unjust  way  in 
which  children  and  members  of  the  household  always 
look  upon  a  stepmother,  and  how  different  her  position 
was  in  consequence  of  this.  But  though  she  had  per- 
ceived all  the  unpleasantness  of  the  position,  she  did 
nothing  to  escape  it ;  she  did  not  caress  one,  make 
presents  to  another,  and  avoid  grumbling,  which  would 
have  been  very  easy  for  her,  since  she  was  very  amiable, 
and  not  exacting  in  disposition.  And  she  not  only  did 
not  do  this,  but  on  the  contrary,  foreseeing  all  the  un- 
pleasantness of  her  position,  she  prepared  herself  for 
defense  without  having  been  attacked  ;  and,  taking  it 
for  granted  that  all  the  members  of  the  household 
wished  to  use  all  the  means  in  their  power  to  insult 
lier,  and  make  things  disagreeable  for  her,  she  perceived 
design  in  everything,  and  considered  that  the  most  dig- 
nified way  for  her  was  to  suffer  in  silence ;  and,  since 
she  won  no  love  by  her  abstention  from  action,  of  course 
she  won  ill-will.  Moreover,  she  was  so  lacking  in  that 
quality  of  understanding  which  was  developed  to  such 
a  high  degree  in  our  house,  and  which  I  have  already 
mentioned,  and  her  habits  were  so  opposed  to  those 
which  had  become  rooted  in  our  house,  that  this  alone 
prejudiced   people    against    her.     In    our   neat,  precise 


364  YOUTH 

house  she  always  lived  as  though  she  had  but  just  ar- 
rived ;  she  rose  and  retired  now  early,  now  late ;  at  one 
time  she  would  come  out  to  dinner,  at  another  she 
would  not,  and  sometimes  she  had  supper,  and  again 
she  had  none.  She  went  about  half-dressed  the  greater 
part  of  the  time  when  we  had  no  visitors,  and  was  not 
ashamed  to  show  herself  to  us,  and  even  to  the  servants, 
in  a  white  petticoat,  with  a  shawl  thrown  around  her, 
and  with  bare  arms.  At  first  this  simplicity  pleased 
me ;  but  I  very  soon  lost  all  the  respect  I  had  enter- 
tained for  her,  in  consequence  of  this  very  sim'plicity. 
It  seemed  still  stranger  to  us,  that  there  were  two 
totally  dissimilar  women  in  her,  according  to  whether 
we  had  visitors  or  not  :  one,  in  the  presence  of  guests, 
was  a  healthy,  cold  young  beauty,  elegantly  dressed, 
neither  clever  nor  foolish,  but  cheerful ;  the  other, 
when  no  guests  were  by,  was  a  sad,  worn-out  woman, 
no  longer  young,  untidy,  and  bored,  though  affectionate. 
I  often  thought,  as  I  looked  at  her  when  she  returned 
smiling  from  making  calls,  and  blushing  with  the  winter 
cold,  happy  in  the  consciousness  of  her  beauty,  and 
went  up  to  the  mirror  to  survey  herself  as  she  removed 
her  bonnet ;  or  when  she  went  to  the  carriage  rustling 
in  her  rich,  low-necked  ball-dress,  feeling  a  little  ashamed, 
yet  proud,  before  the  servants  ;  or  at  home,  when  we 
had  little  evening  gatherings,  in  a  close  silk  gown  with 
some  delicate  lace  about  her  soft  neck,  she  beamed  on 
all  sides  with  her  monotonous  but  beautiful  smile,  — 
what  would  those  who  raved  over  her  have  said  if  they 
could  have  seen  her  as  I  did  on  the  evenings  when  she 
stayed  at  home,  and  strayed  through  the  dimly  lighted 
rooms  after  midnight,  like  a  shadow,  as  she  awaited  her 
husband's  return  from  the  club,  in  some  sort  of  a  wrap- 
per, with  unkempt  hair .-'  Sometimes  she  went  to  the 
piano,  and  played  the  one  waltz  which  she  knew,  frown- 
ing with  the  effort ;  then  she  would  take  a  volume  of 
romance,  and,  after  reading  a  few  lines  out  of  the  mid- 
dle of  it,  throw  it  away  ;  again,  in  order  not  to  wake  up 
the  servants,  she  would  go  to  the  pantry  herself,  and 
get  a  cucumber  and  cold  veal,  and  eat  it  standing  by 


YOUTH  36s 

the  pantry-window ;  or  would  wander  from  room  to 
room  aimlessly,  both  weary  and  bored.  But  what  alien- 
ated us  from  her  more  than  anything  else  was  her  lack 
of  tact,  which  was  expressed  chiefly  by  the  peculiar 
manner  of  her  condescending,^  attention  when  |)eople 
talked  to  her  about  things  which  she  did  not  under- 
stand. She  was  not  to  blame  because  she  had  uncon- 
sciously acquired  a  habit  of  smiling  slightly  with  the 
Hps  alone,  and  bending  her  head  when  she  was  told 
things  which  did  not  interest  her  (and  nothing  except 
herself  and  her  husband  did  interest  her);  but  that 
smile,  and  bend  of  the  head,  frequently  repeated,  were 
inexpressibly  repellent.  Her  mirth,  too,  which  seemed 
to  ridicule  herself,  us,  and  all  the  world,  was  awkward, 
and  communicated  itself  to  no  one ;  her  sensibility  was 
too  artificial.  But  the  chief  thing  of  all  was  that  she 
was  not  ashamed  to  talk  constantly  to  every  one  about 
her  love  for  papa.  Although  she  did  not  lie  in  the  least 
in  saying  of  it  that  her  whole  life  consisted  in  her  love 
for  her  husband,  and  although  she  proved  it  with  her 
whole  life,  yet,  according  to  our  views,  such  ceaseless, 
unreserved  assertion  of  her  affection  was  disgusting, 
and  we  were  ashamed  for  her  when  she  spoke  of  it 
before  strangers,  even  more  than  when  she  made  mis- 
takes in  French. 

She  loved  her  husband  more  than  anything  else  in  the 
world ;  and  her  husband  loved  her,  especially  at  first, 
and  when  he  saw  that  he  was  not  the  only  one  whom 
she  pleased.  The  sole  aim  of  her  existence  was  the 
acquirement  of  her  husband's  love  ;  but  it  seemed  as 
though  she  purposely  did  everything  which  could  be 
disagreeable  to  him,  and  all  with  the  object  of  showing 
him  the  full  power  of  her  love,  and  her  readiness  to 
sacrifice  herself. 

She  loved  gala  attire  ;  my  father  liked  to  see  her  a 
beauty  in  society,  exciting  praise  and  admiration  ;  she 
sacrificed  her  love  for  festivities,  for  father's  sake,  and 
grew  more  and  more  accustomed  to  sit  at  home  in  a 
gray  blouse.  Papa,  who  always  had  considered  freedom 
and   equality  indispensable   conditions    in   family  inter 


j66  YOUTH 

course,  hoped  that  his  beloved  Liubotchka  and  his  good 
young  wife  would  come  together  in  a  sincere  and 
friendly  way  ;  but  Avdotya  Vasilievna  was  sacrificing 
herself,  and  considered  it  requisite  to  show  the  real 
mistress  of  the  house,  as  she  called  Liubotchka,  an 
unsuitable  amount  of  respect,  which  wounded  papa 
deeply.  He  gambled  a  great  deal  that  winter,  and, 
toward  the  end,  lost  a  good  deal  of  money  ;  but  he  con- 
cealed his  gambling  matters  from  all  the  household,  as 
he  always  did,  not  wishing  to  mix  up  his  play  with 
his  family  life.  Avdotya  Vasilievna  sacrificed  herself  ; 
sometimes  she  was  ill,  and  toward  the  end  of  the  winter 
she  was  enceinte,  but  she  considered  it  her  duty  to  go  to 
meet  papa  with  her  slouching  gait,  in  her  gray  blouse, 
and  with  unkempt  hair,  at  four  or  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  when  he  returned  from  his  club,  at  times 
weary  and  ashamed  after  his  losses. 

She  inquired,  in  an  absent-minded  way,  whether  he 
had  been  lucky  at  play,  and  listened,  with  condescend- 
ing attention,  as  she  smiled  and  nodded  her  head  to 
what  he  told  her  as  to  his  doings  at  the  club  and  to  his 
request,  a  hundred  times  repeated,  that  she  would  never 
wait  for  him.  But,  although  his  losses  and  winnings, 
upon  which,  according  to  his  play,  all  papa's  property 
depended,  did  not  interest  her  in  the  least,  she  was  the 
first  to  meet  him  every  night  when  he  returned  from 
the  club.  Moreover,  she  was  urged  to  these  meetings, 
not  by  her  passion  for  self-sacrifice  alone,  but  by  a 
certain  concealed  jealousy  from  which  she  suffered  in 
the  highest  degree.  No  one  in  the  world  could  con- 
vince her  that  papa  was  returning  late  from  the  club, 
and  not  from  some  mistress.  She  tried  to  read  papa's 
love-secrets  in  his  face  ;  and,  as  she  could  see  nothing 
there,  she  sighed  with  a  certain  luxury  of  woe,  and  gave 
herself  up  to  the  contemplation  of  her  unhappiness. 

In  consequence  of  these  and  many  other  incessant 
sacrifices,  there  came  to  be,  in  papa's  conduct  to  his 
wife,  toward  the  later  months  of  the  winter,  during  which 
he  had  lost  a  great  deal,  so  that  he  was  out  of  spirits 
the  greater  part  of  the  time,  an  evident  and    mingled 


YOUTH  367 

feeling  of  quiet  hatred,  of  that  suppressed  repugnance 
to  the  object  of  one's  affections  which  expresses  itself 
by  an  unconscious  endeavor  to  cause  that  object  every 
possible  sort  of  petty  moral  unpleasantnesses. 


CHAPTER    XLIII 

NEW    COMRADES 

The  winter  passed  away  unperceived,  and  the  thaw 
had  already  begun  again,  and  at  the  university  the  lists 
of  examinations  had  already  been  nailed  up  ;  when  all 
at  once  I  remembered  that  I  must  answer  about  the 
eighteen  subjects  to  which  I  had  listened  and  not  one  of 
which  I  had  heard,  written  down,  or  prepared.  Strange 
that  such  a  plain  question,  "  How  am  I  to  pass  the 
examinations.''"  had  never  once  presented  itself  to  me. 
But  I  had  been  in  such  a  mist  the  whole  winter,  arising 
from  my  delight  in  being  grown  up  and  being  conime  il 
faut,  that  when  it  did  occur  to  me,  "  How  am  I  to  pass 
the  examinations.-*"  I  compared  myself  with  my  com- 
rades, and  thought,  "They  will  pass,  but  the  majority  of 
them  are  not  comme  il  faut  yet  ;  so  I  still  have  an  extra 
advantage  over  them,  and  I  must  pass."  I  went  to  the 
lectures  simply  because  I  had  become  accustomed  to  do 
so,  and  because  papa  sent  me  out  of  the  house.  More- 
over, I  had  a  great  many  acquaintances,  and  I  often  had 
a  jolly  time  at  the  university.  I  loved  the  noise,  the 
chattering,  the  laughter  in  the  auditorium  ;  I  loved  to 
sit  on  the  rear  bench  during  the  lecture,  and  dream  of 
something  or  other  to  the  monotonous  sound  of  the 
professor's  voice,  and  to  observe  my  comrades  ;  I  liked 
to  run  out  at  times  with  some  one  to  Materna's,  to 
drink  vodka  and  take  a  bite,  and,  knowing  that  I  might 
be  punished  for  it,  to  enter  the  auditorium  after  the. 
professor,  creaking  the  door  timidly  ;  I  loved  to  take 
part  in  a  piece  of  mischief  when  class  after  class  con- 
gregated amid  laughter  in  the  corridors.  All  this  was 
very  jolly. 


368  YOUTH 

When  everybody  had  begun  to  attend  the  lectures 
more  faithfully,  and  the  professor  of  physics  had  finished 
his  course,  and  had  taken  leave  until  the  examinations, 
the  students  began  to  collect  their  note-books,  and  pre- 
pare themselves.  I  also  began  to  think  of  preparing  my- 
self. Operoff,  to  whom  I  continued  to  bow,  although  we 
were  on  the  very  coolest  of  terms,  as  I  have  already  said, 
not  only  offered  me  his  note-books,  but  invited  me  to 
prepare  myself  from  them  with  him  and  other  students. 
I  thanked  him  and  consented,  hoping  by  this  honor 
entirely  to  smooth  over  my  former  disagreement  with 
him  ;  but  all  I  asked  was  that  all  would  be  sure  to 
meet  at  my  house  every  time,  as  I  had  fine  quarters. 

T  was  told  that  the  preparations  would  be  made  in 
turn  at  one  house  or  another,  according  to  its  nearness. 
The  first  meeting  took  place  at  Zukhin's.  It  was  a 
little  room,  behind  a  partition,  in  a  large  house  on  the 
Trubno'i  Boulevard.  I  was  late  on  the  first  day  named, 
and  came  when  they  had  already  begun  the  reading. 
The  little  room  was  full  of  smoke  from  the  coarse 
tobacco  which  Zukhin  used,  which  was  makhorka}  On 
the  table  stood  a  square  bottle  of  vodka,  glasses,  bread, 
salt,  and  a  mutton-bone. 

Zukhin  invited  me,  without  rising,  to  take  a  drink  of 
vodka,  and  to  take  off  my  coat. 

"  I  think  you  are  not  accustomed  to  such  an  enter- 
tainment," he  added. 

All  were  in  dirty  calico  shirts,  with  false  bosoms.  I 
removed  my  coat,  trying  not  to  show  my  scorn  for  them, 
and  laid  it  on  the  sofa  with  an  air  of  comradeship. 
Zukhin  recited,  referring  now  and  then  to  the  note- 
books :  the  others  stopped  him  to  ask  questions  ;  and 
he  explained  concisely,  intelligently,  and  accurately. 
I  began  to  listen  ;  and,  as  I  did  not  understand  much, 
not  knowing  what  had  gone  before,  I  asked  a  question. 

"  Eh,  my  good  fellow,  you  can't  listen  if  you  don't 
know  that,"  said  Zukhin.  '*  I  will  give  you  the  note- 
books, and  you  can  go  through  them  for  to-morrow." 

I  was  ashamed  of  my  ignorance,  and,  conscious  at  the 

1  Peasant  tol^acco  {^nicotiana  rustica),  grown  in  Little  Russia.  —  Tr. 


YOUTH  369 

same  time  of  the  entire  justice  of  Zukhin's  remark,  I 
ceased  to  listen,  and  busied  myself  with  observations  on 
these  new  associates.  According  to  the  classification 
of  men  into  those  who  were  conime  il  faut,  and  those 
who  were  coinuie  il  nc  fant  pas,  they  evidently  belonged 
to  the  second  chvision,  and  awakened  in  me,  conse- 
quently, a  feeling  not  only  of  scorn,  but  of  a  certain 
personal  hatred  which  I  experienced  for  them,  because, 
though  they  were  not  couime  il  faut,  they  not  only 
seemed  to  regard  me  as  their  equal,  but  even  patronized 
me  in  a  good-natured  way.  This  feeling  was  aroused 
in  me  by  their  feet,  and  their  dirty  hands  with  their 
closely  bitten  nails,  and  one  long  nail  on  Operoff's  little 
finger,  and  their  pink  shirts,  and  their  false  bosoms,  and 
the  oaths  with  which  they  affectionately  addressed  each 
other,  and  the  dirty  room,  and  Zukhin's  habit  of  con- 
stantly blowing  his  nose  a  little,  while  he  pressed  one 
nostril  with  his  finger,  and  in  particular  their  manner 
of  speaking,  of  employing  and  accenting  certain  words. 
For  instance,  they  used  blockhead  instead  of  fool  ;  Just 
so  instead  of  exactly  ;  splendid  instead  of  very  beautiful ; 
and  so  on  ;  which  seemed  to  me  to  be  book-language, 
and  disgustingly  ungentlemanly.  But  that  which 
aroused  my  comnic  il  faut  hatred  was  the  accent  which 
they  placed  on  certain  Russian,  and  especially  on  for- 
eign words  :  they  said  machine,  activity,  on  purpose, 
in  the  chimney,  Shakespeare  instead  of  Shakespeare, 
and  so  forth,  and  so  forth. 

But,  in  spite  of  their  exterior,  which  at  that  time  was 
insuperably  repugnant  to  me,  I  had  a  presentiment  that 
there  was  something  good  about  these  people ;  and, 
envious  of  the  jolly  comradeship  which  united  them, 
I  felt  attracted  to  them,  and  wanted  to  get  better 
acquainted  with  them,  which  was  not  a  difficult  thing 
for  me  to  do.  I  already  knew  the  gentle  and  upright 
Operoff.  Now,  the  dashing  and  remarkably  clever 
Zukhin,  who  evidently  reigned  over  this  circle,  pleased 
me  extremely.  He  was  a  small,  stout,  dark-complex- 
ioned man,  with  somewhat  swollen  and  always  shining, 
but  extremely  intelligent,  lively,  and  independent  face. 


310 


YOUTH 


This  expression  was  especially  due  to  his  forehead, 
which  was  not  lofty,  but  arched  over  deep  black  eyes, 
his  short,  bristling  hair,  and  his  thick  black  beard, 
which  bore  the  appearance  of  never  being  shaved.  He 
did  not  seem  to  think  of  himself  (a  thing  which  always 
pleased  me  in  people),  but  it  was  evident  that  his  mind 
was  never  idle.  His  was  one  of  those  expressive  coun- 
tenances which  undergo  an  entire  and  sudden  change 
in  your  eyes  a  few  hours  after  you  have  seen  them  for 
the  first  time.  This  is  what  happened  in  my  eyes  with 
Zukhin's  face  toward  the  end  of  the  evening.  New 
wrinkles  suddenly  made  their  appearance  on  his  coun- 
tenance, his  eyes  retreated  still  deeper,  his  smile  be- 
came different,  and  his  whole  face  was  so  changed 
that  it  was  with  difficulty  that  I  recognized  him. 

When  the  meeting  was  at  an  end,  Zukhin,  the  other 
students,  and  I  drank  a  glass  of  vodka  apiece  in  order 
to  show  our  desire  to  be  good  comrades,  and  hardly  any 
remained  in  the  bottle.  Zukhin  inquired  who  had  a 
quarter-ruble,  that  the  old  woman  who  served  him 
might  be  sent  for  more  vodka.  I  offered  my  money  ; 
but  Zukhin  turned  to  Operoff  as  though  he  had  not 
heard  me,  and  Operoff,  pulling  out  a  little  bead  purse, 
gave  him  the  money  that  was  needed. 

"See  that  you  don't  get  drunk,"  said  Operoff,  who 
did  not  drink  at  all  himself. 

"  Never  fear,"  replied  Zukhin,  sucking  the  marrow 
from  the  mutton-bone  (I  remember  thinking  at  the  time, 
"  He  is  so  clever  because  he  eats  a  great  deal  of  mar- 
row"). "  Never  fear,"  went  on  Zukhin,  smiling  slightly, 
and  his  smile  was  such  that  one  noticed  it  involuntarily, 
and  felt  grateful  to  him  for  the  smile.  "Though  I 
should  get  drunk,  there's  no  harm.  Now  let's  see, 
comrades;  who  will  wager  that  I'll  come  out  better 
than  he  will,  or  he  better  than  I }  It 's  all  ready,  com- 
rades," he  added,  tapping  his  head  boastfully.  "There  's 
Semenoff,  he  would  not  have  broken  down  if  he  had  not 
caroused  so  deeply." 

In  fact,  that  same  gray-haired  Semenoff,  who  had  so 
much  delighted  me  at   the  first   examination  by  being 


YOUTH  371 

homelier  than  myself,  and  who,  after  having  passed 
second  in  the  entrance  examinations,  had  attended  the 
lectures  punctually  during  the  first  month  of  his  stu- 
denthood,  had  caroused  before  the  review,  and  toward 
the  end  of  the  year's  course  had  not  shown  himself  at 
the  university  at  all. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  asked  some  one. 

*•  I  have  lost  sight  of  him,"  went  on  Zukhin.  "  The  last 
time  we  were  together  we  smashed  Lisbon.  He  turned 
out  a  magnificent  scamp.  They  say  there  was  some 
story  or  other  afterward.  That  was  a  head  !  What 
fire  there  was  in  that  man  !  What  a  mind  !  It 's  a  pity 
if  he  has  come  to  grief ;  but  he  certainly  has.  He 
was  n't  the  kind  of  a  boy  to  keep  his  place  in  the  uni- 
versity with  his  outbreaks." 

After  a  little  further  conversation,  all  rose  to  go, 
having  agreed  to  meet  at  Zukhin's  on  the  following 
days,  because  his  quarters  were  the  nearest  to  all  the 
rest.  When  we  all  emerged  into  the  courtyard,  I 
was  rather  conscience-stricken  that  they  should  all  be 
on  foot,  while  I  alone  rode  in  a  drozhky  ;  and  in  my 
shame  I  proposed  to  Operoff  to  take  him  home.  Zukhin 
had  come  out  with  us,  and,  borrowing  a  silver  ruble  of 
Operoff,  he  went  off  somewhere  to  visit  for  the  night. 
On  the  way  Operoff  told  me  a  great  deal  about  Zukhin's 
character,  and  manner  of  life  ;  and  when  I  reached  home 
I  did  not  go  to  sleep  for  a  long  time,  for  thinking  of  the 
new  people  with  whom  I  had  become  acquainted.  For 
a  long  while  I  did  not  fall  asleep,  but  wavered,  on  the 
one  hand,  between  respect  for  those  whose  learning, 
simplicity,  honesty,  and  poetry  of  youth  and  daring 
inclined  me  in  their  favor  ;  and  their  ungentlemanly 
exterior,  which  repelled  me,  on  the  other  hand.  In 
spite  of  all  this  desire,  it  was  at  that  time  literally  im- 
})ossible  for  me  to  associate  with  them.  Our  ideas  were 
entirely  different.  There  was  between  us  an  abyss  of 
shades,  which  constituted  for  me  all  the  charm  and 
reason  of  life,  which  were  utterly  incomprehensible  to 
them,  and  tnce  versa.  But  the  principal  reason  why  we 
could  not  possibly  associate  was  the  twenty-ruble  cloth 


37^ 


YOUTH 


of  my  coat,  my  drozhky,  and  my  cambric  shirts.  This 
reason  had  particular  weight  with  me.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  I  insulted  them  with  the  signs  of  my  prosperity. 
I  felt  guilty  before  them  ;  and  I  could  not  in  any  way 
enter  upon  equal,  genuinely  friendly  relations  with 
them,  because  I  first  humbled  myself,  then  rebelled 
against  my  undeserved  humiliation,  and  then  proceeded 
to  self-confidence.  But  the  coarse,  vicious  side  of 
Zukhin's  character  had  been,  during  this  period,  to  such 
a  degree  overwhelmed  by  that  powerful  poetry  of 
bravery  of  which  I  had  a  presentiment  in  him,  that  it 
did  not  affect  me  at  all  unpleasantly. 

For  two  weeks  I  went  nearly  every  evening  to  study 
at  Zukhin's.  I  studied  very  little  ;  for,  as  I  have  al- 
ready said,  I  had  fallen  behind  my  comrades,  and  as  I 
had  not  sufficient  force  to  study  alone,  in  order  to  catch 
up  with  them,  I  only  pretended  to  listen  and  understand 
what  was  read.  It  seemed  to  me  that  my  companions 
divined  my  dissimulation  ;  and  I  observed  that  they 
frequently  skipped  passages  which  they  knew  them- 
selves, and  never  asked  me. 

Every  day  I  became  more  and  more  lenient,  toward 
the  disorder  of  this  circle,  I  felt  drawn  toward  it,  and 
found  much  that  was  poetical  in  it.  My  word  of  honor 
alone,  which  I  had  given  to  Dmitry,  not  to  go  anywhere 
on  a  carouse  with  them,  restrained  my  desire  to  share 
their  pleasures. 

Once  I  attempted  to  brag  before  them  of  my  knowl- 
edge of  literature,  and  particularly  of  French  literature; 
and  I  led  the  conversation  to  that  subject.  It  turned 
out,  to  my  amazement,  that,  although  they  pronounced 
titles  of  foreign  books  in  Russian  fashion,  that  they  had 
read  a  great  deal  more  than  I,  that  they  knew  and  prized 
English  and  even  Spanish  writers,  and  Lesage  of  whom 
I  had  never  even  heard.  Pushkin  and  Zhukovsky  were 
literature  to  them  (and  not,  as  to  me,  little  books  in 
yellow  bindings  which  I  had  read  and  learned  as  a 
child).  They  despised  Dumas,  Sue,  and  Feval  equally  ; 
and  passed  judgment,  Zukhin  in  particular,  upon  litera- 
ture much  better  and  more  clearly  than   I,  as  I  could 


YOUTH  373 

not  but  acknowledge.  Neither  had  I  any  advantage 
over  them  in  my  knowledge  of  music.  Still  more  to 
my  amazement,  Operoff  played  on  the  violin,  another  of 
the  students  who  studied  with  us  played  the  violoncello 
and  the  piano  ;  and  both  played  in  the  university  or- 
chestra, knew  music  very  well,  and  prized  it  highly. 
In  a  word,  with  the  exception  of  the  French  and 
German  accent,  they  knew  everything  that  I  attempted 
to  brag  about  before  them,  much  better  than  I  did,  and 
were  not  in  the  least  proud  of  it.  I  might  have  boasted 
of  my  social  position  ;  but,  unlike  Volodya,  I  had  none. 
What,  then,  was  that  height  from  which  I  looked  down 
upon  them  .-'  my  acquaintance  with  Prince  Ivan  Ivanitch  .'' 
my  pronunciation  of  French }  my  drozhky  .-'  my  cambric 
shirts  .■*  my  finger-nails  .''  And  was  not  this  all  non- 
sense .-* —  began  to  pass  dimly  through  my  mind  at 
times,  under  the  influence  of  envy  for  the  fellowship 
and  good-natured  youthful  mirth  which  I  saw  before 
me.  They  all  called  each  other  f/io;/.  The  simplicity 
of  their  intercourse  approached  coarseness,  but  even 
beneath  this  rough  exterior  a  fear  of  offending  each 
other  in  any  way  was  constantly  visible.  Scajnp  and 
pig,  which  were  employed  by  them  in  an  affectionate 
sense,  only  made  me  recoil,  and  gave  me  cause  for  in- 
ward ridicule  ;  but  these  words  did  not  offend  them  in 
the  least,  or  prevent  their  standing  on  the  most  friendly 
footing  with  one  another.  They  were  careful  and  deli- 
cate in  their  dealings  with  one  another,  as  only  very 
poor  and  very  young  people  are.  But  the  chief  point  was 
that  I  scented  something  broad  and  wild  in  the  char- 
acter of  Zukhin  and  his  adventures  in  Lisbon.  I  had 
a  suspicion  that  these  carouses  must  be  something  quite 
different  from  the  sham  with  burnt  rum  and  champagne 
in  which  I  had  participated  at  Baron  Z.'s. 


374  YOUTH 


CHAPTER   XLIV 

ZUKHIN    AND    SEMENOFF 

I  DO  not  know  to  what  class  of  society  Zukhin  be- 
longed ;  but  I  know  that  he  was  from  the  S.  gymnasium, 
had  no  money  whatever,  and  apparently  was  not  of 
noble  birth.  He  was  eighteen  at  this  time,  though  he 
appeared  much  older.  He  was  remarkably  clever,  and 
particularly  quick  at  grasping  an  idea ;  it  was  easier  for 
him  to  embrace  the  whole  of  a  many-sided  subject,  to 
foresee  all  its  branches  and  the  deductions  from  it,  than 
to  examine  carefully  by  means  of  knowledge  the  laws 
by  which  these  deductions  are  arrived  at.  He  knew 
that  he  was  clever ;  he  was  proud  of  it,  and  in  conse- 
quence of  this  pride  he  was  uniformly  simple  and  good- 
natured  in  his  intercourse  with  every  one.  He  must 
have  suffered  much  in  the  course  of  his  life.  His  fiery, 
sensitive  nature  had  already  succeeded  in  reflecting  in 
itself  love  and  friendship  and  business  and  money,  al- 
tiiough  in  a  restricted  measure,  and  in  the  lower  classes 
of  society,  there  was  nothing  for  which,  after  having 
made  proof  of  it,  he  did  not  feel  either  scorn,  or  a  certain 
indifference  and  inattention,  which  proceeded  from  the 
too  great  facility  with  which  he  acquired  everything. 
Apparently  he  only  grasped  at  every  novelty  for  the  sake 
of  scorning  what  he  had  obtained  after  gaining  his 
object,  and  his  gifted  nature  always  attained  its  goal, 
and  had  a  right  to  its  contempt.  It  was  the  same  thing 
with  the  sciences  ;  he  studied  little,  took  no  notes,  yet 
had  a  superior  knowledge  of  mathematics,  and  boasted 
of  it,  saying  that  he  could  beat  the  professor.  He 
thought  a  great  deal  of  what  they  taught  was  nonsense  ; 
but  with  the  characteristic,  nnconscioitsly  practical  ro- 
gidsJmess  of  his  nature,  he  immediately  fell  in  with  what 
the  professor  required,  and  all  the  professors  liked  him. 
He  was  outspoken  in  his  bearing  with  the  authorities, 
yet  the  authorities  respected  him.  He  not  only  did  not 
respect  or  love  the  sciences,  but  he  even  despised  those 


YOUTH  375 

who  occupied  themselves  seriously  with  what  he  ac- 
quired so  easily.  The  sciences,  as  he  understood  them, 
did  not  require  the  tenth  part  of  his  gifts  ;  life  in  his 
position  as  a  student  did  not  offer  anything  to  which 
he  could  devote  himself  wholly  ;  but,  as  he  said,  his 
fiery,  active  nature  demanded  life,  and  he  gave  himself 
up  to  dissipation  of  such  a  kind  as  his  means  permitted, 
and  yielded  himself  with  ardor  and  a  desire  to  exhaust 
it  so  far  as  lay  in  his  power.  Now,  before  the  examina- 
tions, Operoff's  prediction  was  fulfilled.  He  disappeared 
for  a  couple  of  weeks,  so  that  we  made  our  preparations 
(luring  the  last  part  of  the  time  at  another  student's 
rooms.  But  at  the  first  examination,  he  made  his  ap- 
pearance in  the  hall,  pale,  haggard,  and  with  trembling 
hands,  and  passed  into  the  second  course  in  a  brilliant 
manner. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  course,  there  were  eight 
men*  in  the  company  of  carousers,  at  whose  head  stood 
Zukhin.  Ikonin  and  Semenoff  were  among  the  num- 
ber at  first.  The  former  left  the  company  because  he 
could  not  endure  the  wild  dissipation  to  which  they 
gave  themselves  over  at  the  beginning  of  the  year ;  but 
the  second  did  not  desert  them,  because  it  seemed  a 
small  thing  to  him.  At  first,  all  the  men  in  our  class 
looked  upon  them  with  a  kind  of  horror,  and  related 
their  pranks  to  each  other. 

The  chief  heroes  of  these  pranks  were  Zukhin,  and, 
toward  the  end  of  the  year,  Semenoff.  All  regarded 
Semenoff,  toward  the  end,  with  a  certain  terror ;  and 
when  he  came  to  a  lecture,  which  very  rarely  happened, 
there  was  a  sensation  in  the  auditorium. 

Semenoff  wound  up  his  career  of  dissipation,  just 
before  the  examinations,  in  the  most  original  and 
energetic  manner,  —  to  which  I  was  a  witness,  thanks 
to  my  acquaintance  with  Zukhin.  This  is  how  it  was. 
One  evening,  when  we  had  just  assembled  at  Zu- 
khin's,  and  Ope'roff,  having  arranged  beside  him,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  tallow  candle  in  the  candlestick,  a  tallow 
candle  in  a  bottle,  and,  with  his  head  bent  down 
over  the  note-books,  was  beginning  to  read  in  his  shrill 


376  YOUTH 

voice  from  his  minutely  written  notes  on  physics,  the 
landlady  entered  the  room,  and  informed  Zukhin  that 
some  one  had  come  with  a  note  for  him ^ 


CHAPTER   XLV 

I    MAKE    A    FAILURE 

At  length  the  first  examination  arrived,  on  the 
differential  and  integral  calculus  ;  but  I  was  in  a  kind 
of  strange  mist,  and  had  no  clear  conception  of  what 
awaited  me.  It  occurred  to  me  during  the  evening, 
after  enjoying  the  society  of  Zukhin  and  his  comrades, 
that  it  was  necessary  to  make  some  change  in  my  con- 
victions ;  that  there  was  something  about  them  which 
was  not  nice,  and  not  just  what  it  should  be  :  but  in 
the  morning,  in  the  light  of  the  sun,  I  again  became 
comme  il  fajit,  was  very  well  content  with  that,  and 
desired  no  alterations  in  myself. 

It  was  in  this  frame  of  mind  that  I  came  to  the  first 
examination.  I  seated  myself  on  a  bench  on  the  side 
where  sat  the  princes,  counts,  and  barons,  and  began 
to  converse  with  them  in  French  ;  and,  strange  as  it 
may  seem,  the  thought  never  occurred  to  me  that  I 
should  presently  be  called  upon  to  answer  questions 
upon  a  subject  which  I  knew  nothing  about.  I  gazed 
coolly  at  those  who  went  up  to  be  examined,  and  I  even 
permitted  myself  to  make  fun  of  some  of  them. 

"Well,  Grap,  how  goes  it.-*"  I  said  to  Ilinka  when  he 
returned  from  the  table.     "  Did  you  get  frightened  } " 

"  We  '11  see  how  you  come  out,"  said  Ilinka,  who  had 
utterly  rebelled  against  my  influence  from  the  day  he 
entered  the  university,  did  not  smile  when  I  spoke  to 
him,  and  was  ill-disposed  toward  me. 

I  smiled  scornfully  at  Ilinka's  reply,  although  the 
doubt  which  he  expressed  alarmed  me  for  a  moment. 
But  the  mist  again  spread  itself  over  this  feeling ;  and 
I  remained  indifferent    and    absent-minded,  so   that    I 

1  The  rest  of  the  story  is  omitted  in  the  Russian. — Tr. 


YOUTH 


377 


promised  to  go  and  lunch  with  Baron  Z.  at  Materna's 
just  as  soon  as  I  had  been  examined  (as  though  this 
was  a  matter  of  the  utmost  insignificance  to  me); 
When  I  was  called  up  with  Ikonin,  I  arranged  the 
skirts  of  my  uniform,  and  stepped  up  to  the  examina- 
tion table  with  perfect  nonchalance. 

A  slight  chill  of  terror  coursed  through  my  back 
only  when  the  young  professor — the  same  one  who 
had  questioned  me  at  the  entrance  examination  — 
looked  me  straight  in  the  face,  and  I  touched  the  note- 
paper  on  which  the  questions  were  written.  Although 
Ikonin  took  his  ticket  with  the  same  swaying  of  his 
whole  body  as  during  the  preceding  examinations,  he 
answered  after  a  fashion,  though  very  badly.  And  I 
did  what  he  had  done  at  the  first  examination  :  I  did 
even  worse ;  for  I  took  a  second  card,  and  made  no 
reply  at  all.  The  professor  looked  me  compassionately 
in  the  face,  and  said  in  a  firm  but  quiet  voice  :  — 

"  You  will  not  pass  into  the  second  class,  Mr.  Irteneff. 
It  will  be  better  not  to  present  yourself  for  examination. 
This  course  must  be  weeded  out.  —  And  the  same  with 
you,  Mr.  Ikonin,"  he  added. 

Ikonin  asked  permission  to  be  reexamined,  as  though 
it  were  an  alms ;  but  the  professor  replied  that  he  could 
not  accomplish  in  two  days  what  he  had  not  accom- 
plished in  the  course  of  a  year,  and  that  he  could  not 
possibly  pass.  Ikonin  begged  again  in  a  humble  and 
pitiful  manner,  but  the  professor  again  refused. 

"You  may  go,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  in  the  same  low 
but  firm  voice. 

It  was  only  then  that  I  could  make  up  my  mind  to 
leave  the  table ;  and  I  was  ashamed  at  having,  as  it 
were,  taken  part  by  my  silence  in  Ikonin's  prayers.  I 
do  not  remember  how  I  traversed  the  hall,  past  the 
students  ;  what  reply  I  made  uo  their  questions  ;  how  I 
made  my  way  into  the  anteroom,  and  got  home. 

For  three  days  I  did  not  leave  my  room  ;  I  saw  no 
one  ;  I  found  solace  in  tears,  as  in  my  childhood,  and 
wept  a  great  deal.  I  looked  at  my  pistols,  in  order  that 
I  might  shoot  myself  if  I   should  want   to  do  so  very 


378  YOUTH 

much.  I  thought  that  Ilinka  Grap  would  spit  in  my 
face  when  he  met  me,  and  that  he  would  be  quite  right 
in  so  doing ;  that  Operoff  would  rejoice  in  my  misfor- 
tune, and  tell  everybody  about  it  ;  that  Kolpikoff  was 
quite  correct  in  insulting  me  at  Jahr's  ;  that  my  stupid 
speeches  to  Princess  Kornakoff  could  have  no  other 
result ;  and  so  on,  and  so  on.  All  the  moments  of  my 
life  which  had  been  torturing  to  my  self-love,  and  hard 
to  bear,  passed  through  my  mind  one  after  the  other ; 
and  I  tried  to  blame  some  one  else  for  my  misfortunes. 
I  thought  that  some  one  had  done  this  on  purpose  ;  I 
invented  a  whole  intrigue  against  myself ;  I  grumbled 
at  the  professors,  at  my  comrades,  at  Volodya,  at  Dmitry, 
at  papa  because  he  had  sent  me  to  the  university  ;  I 
complained  of  Providence  for  having  allowed  me  to  live 
to  see  such  disgrace.  Finally,  conscious  of  my  complete 
ruin  in  the  eyes  of  all  who  knew  me,  I  begged  papa  to 
let  me  enter  the  hussars,  or  go  to  the  Caucasus.  Papa 
was  displeased  with  me ;  but,  on  seeing  my  terrible 
grief,  he  comforted  me  by  saying  that  it  was  not  so  very 
bad  ;  that  matters  might  be  arranged  if  I  would  take  a 
different  course  of  study.  Volodya,  too,  who  did  not  see 
anything  dreadful  in  my  misfortune,  said  that  in  an- 
other course  I  should  at  least  not  feel  ashamed  before 
my  fellow-students. 

Our  ladies  did  not  understand  it  at  all,  and  would  not, 
or  could  not,  comprehend  what  an  examination  was,  — 
what  it  meant  to  fail  to  pass  ;  and  only  pitied  me  because 
they  saw  my  grief. 

Dmitry  came  to  see  me  every  day,  and  was  extremely 
gentle  and  tender  during  this  whole  period  ;  but,  for 
that  very  reason,  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  had  grown 
cold  toward  me.  It  always  seemed  to  me  a  pain  and 
an  insult,  when,  mounting  to  my  room,  he  sat  down 
close  to  me  in  silence,  with  a  little  of  that  expression 
which  a  doctor  wears  when  he  seats  himself  at  the  bed- 
side of  a  very  sick  man.  Sophia  Ivanovna  and  Varenka 
sent  me  some  books  by  him,  which  I  had  formerly 
wanted,  and  wished  me  to  come  to  see  them ;  but,  in 
this  very  attention,  I  perceived  a  haughty  and  insulting 


YOUTH 


379 


condescension  toward  me,  the  man  who  had  fallen  so 
very  low.  At  the  end  of  three  days,  I  became  some- 
what composed  ;  but,  even  up  to  our  departure  for  the 
country,  I  did  not  leave  the  house  ;  and,  thinking  only  of 
my  grief,  I  lounged  idly  from  room  to  room,  endeavoring 
to  avoid  all  members  of  the  household. 

I  thought  and  thought ;  and  finally,  late  in  the  eve- 
ning, as  I  was  sitting  down-stairs  and  listening  to  Avdotya 
Vasilievna's  waltz,  I  suddenly  sprang  up,  ran  upstairs, 
got  my  note-book  on  which  was  written  "  Rules  of 
Life,"  opened  it,  and  a  moment  of  repentance  and  moral 
expansion  came  over  me.  I  wept,  but  no  longer  with 
tears  of  despair.  When  I  recovered  myself,  I  decided 
to  write  down  my  rules  of  life  again,  and  was  firmly 
convinced  that  I  should  never  henceforth  do  anything 
wrong,  nor  spend  a  single  minute  in  idleness,  nor  ever 
alter  my  rules. 

Whether  this  moral  impetus  lasted  long,  in  what  it 
consisted,  and  what  new  laws  it  imposed  upon  my  moral 
development,  I  shall  relate  in  the  following  and  hap- 
pier half  of  my  youth. 


THE  END 


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